Little Sparrow

Summary: "Now up is down," was the last thing any of them heard before the rush of water drowned everything else out. Later, waking up on a random, deserted island, they almost immediately notice that something was not right with their Captain. Sparrington, Salazak, Willabeth, maybe others mentioned.

The little 'party' they'd been having on the deck was soon cleared up, everyone uneasy as they made their way to their hammocks. It took a few people a bit of time before Morpheus managed to drag them into his land of dreams, but soon enough, as the gently rocking of the Pearl lulled even the most restless of the crew, the ship fell completely silent.

And James Norrington was utterly unnerved by it. This was far from the first time he'd had to sleep on a ship, what with his and his father's occupation, and he'd never felt so completely awake during a night on a ship, even as he was swaying in his hammock between Groves and Marty, Gillete on Theodor's other side, Gibbs on Marty's, closest to the stairs towards the upper decks. He didn't even feel uncomfortable with being on this particular ship - a pirate ship - or surrounded with these men - Tia Dalma and Elizabeth had quarters of their own so as to not tempt the men - who were pirates, as he'd been here before, done it for quite a number of nights before he'd ran off on Isla Cruces and this very ship was dragged to the deep by the Kraken. He'd slept like a babe during the sail across the sea on the other side, for God's sake! Why was he having such difficulty now?

It was really simple. Guilt. He felt guilty. James felt unspeakable guilt every time he looked at Sparrow now. Jack was but a child still in many a societies' books, two years away from being considered an adult. It hurt something in Norrington's chest when he looked at him and saw innocence of all things surrounding the pirate, although the teen had shown he more than knew how to take care of himself and was already a Pirate Lord. James still didn't know what that meant and was supposed to include, but it was apparently very important among pirates and it was beyond impressive that an eighteen year old boy had managed to achieve it so young. Still, Sparrow was a child and he had just learned that he had been betrayed by a good number of people he was sailing with at the moment, some time in the past. Could he even sleep at all? Would Tia Dalma's spell truly wear off and Jack Sparrow would become a bitter pirate who truly cared for no other than himself?

It would be a great shame, that. James wasn't one to often praise a pirate, but Jack Sparrow was an exception to many rules. He knew the mad pirate was a good man, one that avoided pointless fights with sharp words of parlay and was often called a coward for it, when he was, in fact, trying to preserve his crew and all of their lives. And his ship. By God, that man was truly in love with his Pearl. Norrington could see it especially now. The Captain he'd come to know had obviously learned not to so expressively show his affection for his vessel, but this teen hadn't. Not yet. James was actually starting to believe his claims that the ship was talking to him.

He blamed it on the sun and the near death experiences he'd gone through in the last couple of weeks.

Still, he could not explain how Jack knew that Cotton was mute before he was told, that Barbossa liked green apples over red and he left said green apples for the older pirate during dinner, how he patted Gibbs on the back every time he mournfully looked at his empty rum cask before distracting him by asking for more stories, how he told 'the two love birds' to stop ogling each other and just make up, how he teased James about not smelling funny anymore. No one had told Jack about any of that and he was too young to know about Joshamee's drinking problem. And even though he knew Elizabeth and Will loved each other, they currently weren't showing any signs of their ongoing quarrel. How did he know?

James growled at himself. These were not thought that could help him go to sleep. If anything, everything regarding Sparrow always had the completely opposite effect. Even long before he'd indirectly caused the Captain's death, and even before the sinking of his Dauntless, the then Commodore had often found himself wondering about Jack Sparrow and what drove a man like him. People generally knew he was unpredictable in his goals and the ways he achieved said goals. Still, James had wondered, spending many a sleepless nights just staring up at the wooden ceiling of his quarters on the Dauntless, pondering the pirate, what had made him the way he was and why such an obviously well educated individual would plunder when he could make an honest living.

And yes, James had figured out early on that, despite of how he acted like a common scalawag and drunkard, Sparrow was indeed far smarter and far more educated than people would give him credit for. The man spoke several languages, could read and write and apparently read a lot, seeing as he would at times mutter complaints at this or that philosopher when he was in the brig or the dungeon and thought no one was there to hear. He sometimes even unconsciously seemed to quote famous authors of various literature when he was answering someone he was not interested in talking with. And he obviously knew every crook and cranny of a ship, if he had managed to jam the Dauntless' helm chain mill to stop her from sailing after the Interceptor, whom he also sailed with only one more set of hands to help. James would have needed three at the very least.

And that was not even mentioning the more complicated words Sparrow knew, as he had demonstrated, most notable being right before he fell off of Fort Charls' walls. He seemed to be a born politician as well, a negotiator born with a silver tongue seemingly gifted to him by the gods themselves. The pirate, all things considered, was indeed savvy.

But why would he turn to piracy in the first place? Somehow, Norrington doubted even Gibbs knew. And it certainly wasn't simply for the gold! James had overheard Turner talking with Elizabeth once, about when he and Jack had went in a rowboat to try and save her when Barbossa and his men thought it was her blood they needed. He had answered Elizabeth's teasing that he would make a fine pirate by telling her Jack had said as much himself, especially since he was obsessed with treasure and 'not all treasure is in silver and gold', making Elizabeth flush when she realized his meaning. Very savvy indeed, Mr Turner. Not to mention that it would have been a right opportune moment had James not been passing by and seen and overheard them.

'I wonder what is his treasure that he's obsessed about? Besides the Pearl, that is,' Norrington found himself thinking before rolling his eyes at his own train of thought. The Admiral - was he even still an Admiral anymore? - sighed and sat up, carefully extracting himself from his hammock, taking his coat and boots with him as silently as he could. There would be no sleep for him this night, it would seem. 'Maybe some fresh air will help?'

And so he found himself climbing onto the main deck, looking up at the clear sky, odd since there should be a storm just a few miles away, if Lady Dalma was to be believed. It was a full moon to boot, so it was a very beautiful night to just lie around and stargaze, the breeze gentle and warm, unlike the winds in the Pacific or South China Sea. And don't get him started on the chill that crept into your very bones as you head more and more south from that point. At least the journey had produced good results. Good-ish, really, seeing as Sparrow had to be returned to his teenage self just so he can be his normal - or what passed for normal with Sparrow - self.

It was eerily quiet on the ship, not even a watch had been set up. Then again, all the lights had been killed so no ship that might be passing by could see them and they were far enough away from the island they had left the Singapore pirates on to not worry about them just yet. They all deserved some rest after the stressful time they've all had as of recently, and let's not even go into the past year, since Jack's death. Not even Norrington had had it easy once he returned to the Navy and it wasn't just because they were hunting every bloody pirate ship in the world.

James' back went rigid as a soft tinkling sound just barely sounded over the wind, looking around for its source. The decks were all empty, no one out here, not even Barbossa's annoying undead monkey pet. The wind picked up a little and the sound was back, once again barely audible but undoubtedly there. And coming from above. Norrington looked up sharply, at the folded sails, up the yardarm, but he saw nothing. The sound persisted yet, as the wind played with Nortington's still long hair - he had grown fond of it, even if it had been very annoying and unpractical to always put pins in his hair so it doesn't show under the stuffy wig he had to wear as Admiral.

There. The crows-nest. That must be where the sound was coming from and James could only think of one person who could be making the tinkling noise. Without much thought, he found himself scaling the rigging until he was up in the crows-nest and found himself for the second time in twenty four hours staring into wide, startled big black eyes of a teenage Jack Sparrow. The more surprising thing was, however, the tear tracks trailing down his cheeks, one or two on each cheek, a little smugged khol trailing as well.

James Norrington was dumbfounded to have discovered Jack Sparrow crying in the crows-nest.

He felt sort of panicked. He'd never had to console a crying person before. "A-are you alright?" If that wasn't the most awkward question to ask in such a situation, the Admiral wasn't sure what was. Still, he had to make an effort. Child, his mind kept repeating over and over again. This was not Jack Sparrow of legend but a child. And children had to be helped.

Jack just rubbed away the remainders if his tears and scooted over a little, so James could get in and not hang so dangerously at night. The older man did and sat awfully close to the upset pirate, as there was not much room up here. It was meant for one person, really. The wind was stronger up here, but the nest mostly protected them from it. Only a more persistent breeze reached them, whipping their hair around and making Jack's trinkets tinkle again.

"'M fine. I just had a nightmare." He sounded like such a child in that moment that James automatically wound an arm around him, startling the teen.

"A ... a memory?" He ventured a guess, guilty. Had they upset him enough that he could not even sleep? His arm tightened around the smaller body and was surprised when Jack cuddled himself up to him, as if seeking warmth. Then again, he was only in his thin shirt up here and for who knows how long already before James gave up his fight against insomnia.

"Aye, a memory. A recent one. Well, recent for me. I guess twenty years have passed, since then." Jack answered, listening to the older man's heart with his ear on his chest. It was a little faster than normal but Jack didn't comment, as his own was hammering away in his chest. Partially still from the nightmare. Partially ... from other things.

"Do you, um ... Want to talk about it?" He wasn't sure if this was how it was supposed to go, as he was currently bullshitting as he went. He'd truly never seen anyone comforting a person after a nightmare. Not even his own mother! His father had thought it pathetic for a boy to go crying to his mother because of something as silly as a nightmare, no matter how realistic or scary it had been. He hoped he wasn't making it worse.

"Not really, but I heard it helps." Sparrow mumbled with a shaky sigh, letting out the last of his tears through that one motion. His eyes didn't sting again. "I dreamed of the day Armando died."

"Armando?" That was a completely unfamiliar name. He'd never heard of a pirate named Armando in correlation to Sparrow and his crazy adventures. Said teen grinned shakily.

"Aye, Armando. A fine Spaniard captain of the Navy. We were ... really close, when I was fifteen." A shuddering breath escaped the Captain and he seemed lost in his memories of a better time. "He didn't know I was a pirate back then, although I wouldn't have even called myself a pirate in those days. I've been just a cabin boy on the Wicked Wench and he had just started out on his own ship, pretty thing it was. Not nearly as my lass, but a pretty ship none the less." He patted the black wood and Norrington rolled his eyes. The man truly was absolutely obsessed with his ship. And maybe a little bit in love.

He just wasn't sure if that was a worry, pity or admiration worthy thing.

"Anyway, I met him one day when I was floating in the middle of the Atlantic - a story for another time, that." He warned before the Navy man could question him. "Spent a few months with him on his ship - too big for my taste, too slow, but seeing which ship has stolen my heart, it is to be expected - got to know the crew. It was great. But then Captain Morgan finally tracked me down and Armado ordered open fire on the Wench. I was aghast and asked why he was attacking when the Wench hadn't even hoisted the jolly rodger as a warning of an attack and he said it was a famous pirate ship that must rot on the bottom of the ocean, her crew all to be left to the sharks. No quarter, no prisoners, no mercy. That was the first time he told me he was a pirate hunter, that he hated pirates and wanted to kill every last one. And so I ran. Knocked him out when he was about to order for the first volley and jumped ship. The Wench threw me a line and they dragged me back aboard and we fled. Captain Morgan kept a close eye on me for two years before we encountered Armando again and he had become bitter and even more merciless. I won't go into detail, but the day I became Captain of the Wicked Wench was the day I had to lead Armando to his death in order to save the life of my crew and my own. Captain Morgan had left them in my care. I couldn't just ... But it hurt!" Jack hit helplessly against the Admiral's chest, like a child who was saying the world wasn't fair. "It still hurts. I can still see it, the look on his face when he realized what I did. Shock, sorrow, anger, betrayal, rage, regret, even pride. But he didn't look at me with hatred. Why didn't he hate me?" He moaned, burying his face in the older man's jacket and did his best not to cry again.

James didn't know what to do, so he just put his other arm around Sparrow, tucking him in against his body and started rocking with the ship. He felt incredibly awkward like this but it seemed to startle Sparrow into stillness, which allowed him to get a few words in. ''You said you were close ... Maybe he loved you too much to ever hate you? Maybe you just never realized how much he cared for you? Maybe he realized he couldn't make you into something you are not?''

Jack just laughed bitterly. ''Aye, he loved me. I always knew. Everyone did. He was rather obvious about it.'' That shocked Norrington into silence and he just stared at the top of Sparrow's wild hair. Did that mean ... ? ''I could have asked the world from him and he would have given it to me, damned be the crown. But he hated pirates more than he loved me, it would seem.''

''Why do I not believe you are telling the whole truth here?''

''Why should I? The Pearl isn't exactly all that fond of you, but she is usually grumpy against anyone who steals even a minuscule amount of my attention away from her. And I don't even know what I'm going to do.'' He moaned as if in pain, a hand reached out for black wood again. Had James not been leaning against the side of the crows-nest, he would have completely missed the minute shover that seemed to travel through the whole ship.

His eyes widened and he looked at Sparrow in shock, but the Captain was too busy bemoaning the ship's fate. And what a surprising fate that was.

''Look at all this ash, coating her forever black, even without the paint. Who could set her on fire? Who would burn down a beauty like her? My Wicked Wench, my Black Pearl.''

''Ashes? Fire? Burn!?'' The startled Navy man finally managed to drag Jack attention away from the sooth colored wood. ''What makes you even think something like that happened? And how can she still be here if someone set fire to her?'' He sat up straight, still holding the teen, looking uncertainly at the boards under his feet and the yardarm.

Jack's shrug in his arms drew his attention back to the pirate. ''She told me, whispered about a great fire burning us both. Something about a hundred souls and freedom and Davy Jones. Tia Dalma said I sold my soul for her to float again, so I'd say magic. And before you say something along the lines of me listening to imaginary voices in my head,'' James found it strange how practices that interruption sounded and wondered just how many times Jack had had to utter it before. ''Just look at this black color. Tell me, have you seen paint like this before? Have you seen a ship this fast? She's faster now than she used to be. I can tell very easily. And she turns and maneuvers more easily, as though a lot of her wight had disappeared. The structural weight of her had burned but magic transformed her from my Wicked Wench into this fine lady of mine, the Black Pearl. She's still the same ship but not. I can tell it's her but her appearance has changed. She's become even more beautiful, if you ask me, and I had thought that impossible. But she's also become better.''

''How do you love her so? As though she were a person?''

''Ain't she?'' James found it strange that Sparrow's voice was suddenly so much fainter. He shifted back to lean against the hold of the crows-nest and arched an eyebrow when he looked down and found a dozing teen. He rolled his eyes heavenwards, muttered a curse against crazy pirates before settling down himself. No use getting a cramp from sitting in one position for too long.

He was out like a light not fifteen minutes later, lulled to sleep by the rocking of the great ship, the heat and the steady breathing of his companion.