Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow finds himself at the age of sixteen one morning...again. When he goes to the Turners for help, several other obstacles stand in his way. He becomes fond of Will's old race horse, Buckhunter- the fastest horse in the Caribbean, and must chose whether he'd rather go back to a pirate's life or give it up to become the horse's new racing jockey.
Teenager Troubles
Chapter 1:
Captain Jack Sparrow yawned, blinking sleep from his eyes as he got out of his bed. He sat still for a moment on the edge of the bed, stretching each limb in turn. That's when he noticed it; he seemed to sit shorter on the bed, his arms didn't feel as long as they were, and his clothes felt baggier. He climbed to his feet, walking over to his desk, where a small mirror sat. He froze when he saw what stared back at him.
Staring at him from the mirror was a boy, clean shaven, unmarked skin, short hair. The pirate's jaw dropped in confusion, as did the one of the boy. What sort of voodoo is this?
"What the bloody 'ell…?"
That was not his voice.
"Oh no. You've got to be kidding me." He ran a hand up the side of his face- the face of his sixteen year old self. "You've got to be bloody kidding me."
Am I dreaming? He pinched himself, regretfully feeling it.
"I can't go on deck looking like this!" He hissed at himself. "Why do I have to be bloody stupid sixteen? I need Gibbs…"
He'd known Gibbs all of his life. Since he was born- literally. He'd be the only one aboard the ship to recognize him for who he was and not throw him in the brig for being a stowaway. The older man was his only hope at the moment.
"Captain!" Someone called from the door. Thank God it was locked.
Deepening his voice to sound the best he could like his older self, Jack called,"Fetch me GIbbs, will ye?"
"Aye, sir!" The voice called back.
He sighed in relief.
Jack turned back to stare at himself in the mirror, jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought with his emotions. How did this happen to me? He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He exhaled audibly, sitting back in his chair.
He heard the door creak open and then shut again. Gibbs.
"Cap'n?" The first mate asked, sounding cautious. The youth-not-youth knew that the older man was used to seeing him constantly moving, always toying with something. He was probably concerned as to why he was staring at his own reflection. He saw him come within sight of him from the corner of his eye. The older man froze, bewildered. "By God, Jack, ye've done it now."
"The worst part is that I don't even know what I've done." He ran a hand across his hairless chin, grimacing. "What the bloody hell do I do?"
"Well, let's start piecin' it together." Gibbs sat down in a chair across from him. "How old are ye?"
"Thirty-six." Jack responded instinctively. His first mate gave him a look, causing the captain to smack himself. "Er...sixteen, apparently."
"Who'd ye anger when ye were sixteen?"
"How am I supposed to know? That was twenty years ago!"
"Try to remember, Jack." The older man urged.
The youth-not-youth searched deep into his memories, pushing past Barbossa, Beckett, and Davy Jones, going back to his teenage years. Different names stood out to him. Arabella, Bill, Fitzwilliam...surely he'd had given up after twenty years? He finally shook his head. "I don't know."
"Do ye know of anywhere we can go to start?"
"Tia Dalma's?"
"Er...how about Port Royal?" Gibbs suggested.
"What, you mean to William and Elizabeth?" Jack asked, brow burrowed.
"Aye." The older man nodded. "She knows a lot on pirates an' on some of your own history. She might be able to find somethin' in her books."
His eyebrows rose as he remembered that fact. "But how will I convince them that I,"He gestured up and down at his own body,"am me?"
"I'll come to shore with ye." The first mate suggested.
"And let the crew take over the ship while we're both gone?" The youth-not-youth growled, getting to his feet and beginning to pace back and forth across his cabin. He stopped suddenly, turning back to him. "Who can we trust to leave in full responsibility of the Pearl?"
"Mr. Cotton's trustworthy, sir."
"Fine. Set course for Port Royal immediately. You are to relay all of my orders to the crew. We both know that I can't be seen like this."
Gibbs nodded, standing from his seat. He patted his younger captain's shoulder as he walked past. "Best find somethin' to entertain yourself with, Cap'n. Ye're goin' to be 'ere for awhile."
*X*
"Jack, Port Royal is within sight." The first mate reported, hours later, upon coming back into the cabin.
"Good." Jack shot to his feet from where he sat at his desk. "Drop anchor out of sight of the town. Don't want their bloody Commodore after us now, do we? We'll take a longboat to shore. Inform me when we're ready to go."
"I'll see to it." Gibbs promised, disappearing from the cabin immediately.
The young captain switched to a pair of more tight-fitting boots. He tightened his belt and scabbard, rolling up his pant legs. He tucked in his shirt to hold it in place. He snatched his pistol and compass from the table, positioning them on his person. He left his hat, knowing from experience that it wouldn't look as good on him as a sixteen year old compared to his thirty-six year old self.
By the time Gibbs came back in, he was more than ready to go. They briefly discussed how Jack would get out unseen. Their resolution was for him to slip out his cabin window, where he'd be met by the longboat. He'd climb down into it and they'd row off.
The first mate went out to bring the longboat around to the back of the Black Pearl. Jack opened his cabin window, standing on a ledge just outside of it as he waited. He watched as the older man pulled the longboat to a stop, as close to his captain's position as he could.
The youth-not-youth climbed down the back of the ship, grabbing onto any handhold he could. He reached the level that the boat sat at and casually stepped into it, sitting down across from Gibbs, whom he gave a stiff nod to- an order to start rowing.
*X*
"I'm a bloody idiot." Jack muttered as he stepped onto the beach of Port Royal.
"What makes ye say that, Cap'n?" His first mate asked.
"We don't even know where they live in this stupid port." He pointed out, rubbing his head.
"Don't tell me ye lost your wits when ye lost your age, Jack!" Gibbs exclaimed.
The young captain fixed him with a glare. "Never say that again."
"The Commodore has the records of all the citizens in port!" The older man told him excitedly. "We can sneak into his office and look for Will and Elizabeth's records."
"I can manage that." He finally said. "Come on, let's find a way into the fort."
The pair snuck through the trees lining the town at a brisk pace. Jack led them in the general direction of Fort Charles. They were careful to keep quiet, talking very little. The sun was setting when the familiar stone walls finally came within their vision.
Without a word, the youth climbed up one of the trees, leaving the older man waiting below him silently. He climbed as high as was necessary- to the point of being able to see over the tall gray walls.
He strained his eyes against the bright light of the orange sun, gaze wandering over the fort. He could see Commodore Norrington walking through the large gate, undoubtedly retiring home for the evening. He knew that before long, the gate would close too.
He carefully slid down the trunk of the tree. "Norrington's leaving. We gotta hurry, they'll close up soon."
He walked past him, not waiting for a response. He stopped not far from the treeline, watching as the shape of the Commodore walked down the path in the distance. He glanced at Gibbs, nodded, and the pair of them raced through the gate, hiding behind a stack of crates. Peaking around the corner, he glanced to see it they were clear of soldiers.
"Say, Gibbs, where's this office of the Commodore's at?" He asked.
The older man pointed toward a hallway across the clearing. "That hallway there, first door on the right b'fore the stairs."
"Right then. Follow me and watch my back. I don't intend on spending the night in one of those cells."
Jack took off across the clearing, Gibbs clumsily hurrying after him. He reached the hallway, pausing to peer around the corner. No one was in sight. He signaled for his companion to keep watch, moving over to the door that had been specified to him. He tried the handle. Locked. He groaned in frustration, drawing his sword. He thrust it in the lock, hearing a click as it broke. He tore his sword free, sheathing it. Upon trying the door again, it opened immediately.
He entered the room, glancing back to make sure his first mate was guarding the door. Once he was sure he was, the youth glanced around the office. He spotted several various filing cabinets, each having labeled drawers of each letter of the alphabet.
He spotted the "T" drawer of one of the cabinets, opening it. He rifled through the folders, one for each person who lived in the port. "Turner. Turner, Turner, Turner...aha!"
He spotted two files bearing the last name of Turner. One Elizabeth Turner and one William Turner. So they did marry after all. He thought to himself, pulling Will's file. He laid it on the Commodore's desk opening the folder. One of the first papers had an address written on it.
28 Timber Lane.
He repeated it aloud to himself, neatly replacing the file in the cabinet and closing it. He headed for the door, glancing at the broken lock. There was no replacing that. He closed the door, hearing it latch. He nodded to Gibbs and they took off across the courtyard, toward the gate. Neither Jack nor his first mate spoke until they were well away from the fort, walking through the quieter streets of the town.
"Did ye find an address?" The older of the pair asked.
"Aye. I got it." He told him. "Do you know where Timber Lane is?"
"Ye have your compass. Use it." Gibbs advised.
"Oh bloody hell, you're right." The young captain huffed angrily. He hissed quietly to him. "We didn't even need to break into Norrington's office! Bloody waste of time, that was."
"Relax, Jack."
The youth-not-youth grabbed his compass and flipped the lid. He watched the needle turn, glancing in the direction of the angle it stopped at. He snapped it shut, stalking off in the general direction it'd pointed, the other man on his heels.
The sun had set, the purple skin turning navy blue. Jack would check his compass occasionally to make sure they were on the right course. Whenever they reached a new street, he had Gibbs check the sign. He couldn't have been happier when he'd been told they'd reached Timber Lane.
They went down the street, walking up to several houses to try and figure out which direction to go to get to 28. Once they'd figured out they were going the complete wrong direction, they turned and headed the opposite way. They came across a clearing before they found the correct house, much to Jack's annoyance.
"It's not here." He growled impatiently, kicking at the dirt of the road.
"'Ow 'bout ye go further down the road an' check while I fetch a drink from a tavern?" Gibbs suggested.
"There's nothing over there. Nothing but the beach." He retorted.
"Oh, come on, Jack, ye know there's no harm in checkin'."
"Fine. But if there's nothing there, I'll meet ye at the longboat the Pearl."
"A good idea that is." The older man agreed.
The duo parted, Gibbs heading back toward the center of town to find himself a tavern and Jack down the road toward the beach. He really doubted that there'd be a house, but he hoped that there would anyway. His compass had never led him astray before, he didn't wish it to now.
He heard the clattering of hooves behind him, as well as the creaking of a wagon. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing two brown horses coming to a slow, a decent sized part being carried by them. He could make out the dark form of a man at the front of the cart, lantern beside him.
To his disbelief, it came to a stop beside him. Even more shocking, was the familiar voice of William Turner from the top. "What are you doing out here so late?"