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.

"I'm going to take it you mean the last widely known happening, aye?" He didn't see the older man nod, but he didn't need to. He knew he did and just continued his story. "The last most widely known happening that my current memory is privy to is the already legendary Battle of the Devil's Triangle, where a bonny lass ship by the name of Wicked Wench outmaneuvered the infamous, legendary Silent Mary, tricking her and her crew to sail straight into the deadly and uncharted waters of the cursed, rocky passage which could put even Shipwreck Cove's Crossing to shame, straight into their doom. It's been a month since then in my memory, Mr Gibbs. The only event as big and as memorable as that that has followed is my becoming the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, and it has still not spread so wide to be as widely known as the defeat of El Matador del Mar."

"By the gods, Jack!" The old sailor cursed fervently under his breath, staring at the curled up form of the legendary Jack Sparrow with wide, shocked, stunned eyes. "I already knew you had somehow been involved in that war but I had never thought you were right there. You were right damned lucky to have been able to survive. The pilot must have been touched by the gods to have not sailed you all straight in with the Silent Mary. I've heard about the Devil's Triangle. It is said to be right impossible to escape it if you've set course towards its mouth. It sounds like a right feat worthy of any of your harebrained schemes and impossible stories."

Jack stayed quiet, beringed fingers of one hand caressing the boards of the Black Pearl's hull while the fingers of his other hand were touching the trinkets in his hair, desperately wanting to know where they came from. He only knew a handful. His wish had come true and he had seen many a adventures since he was fifteen, and even more since he was eighteen, it would seem. And not all were with his beloved ship so even she couldn't tell him all about them like she could for every other memory. Not even Gibbs could know them all, of that Jack was certain. So only his adult self knew them and, unless Jack heals from whatever had happened to him in the Locker to affect him so badly that Tia Dalma resorted to such drastic measures, all of it would be forgotten. The trinkets and beads would lose their meaning and Jack feared nothing more than that, at that very moment. It felt like losing a part of himself. He had already lost quite a bit of himself to others he had trusted himself with. How could he lose any more? Would any of him remain, when it was all said and done?

As the silence stretched, Joshamee realized what he had said, let his mind ponder on it before his mouth fell open, his jaw hitting the floor, eyes even wider and more stunned than before. "I-it was you? Really, really you?" A breathless laugh escaped him, hand shaking as he reached up into his breast pocket for his leather flask. He uncorked it and took a long swing and a deep breath before he felt he was ready to face his de-aged Captain - the apparent killer of the Butcher of the Sea - again. "Of course it was you. How could I forget? You're Captain Jack Sparrow. If the Black Pearl was indeed the Wicked Wench-"

"She is," Jack cut in quietly, still not facing the older man.

"Then of course only you could guide her through such a risky maneuver. How could I be so stupid as to not even consider the thought? I knew you were on one of those ships and that you saw what happened. I just ... I just somehow never put two and two together and got four. I always got three."

"That's a butchery of mathematics right there, Mr Gibbs," finally, finally, Jack turned around just enough to face his old friend, a miniature of his normal smile a shadow of itself on his lips. Gibbs still relaxed upon seeing it, although he was still very close to hysterics. He had thought he knew Jack Sparrow well enough by now, possibly better than anyone else than the man's own father - and even that was iffy at times - but it would seem he was wrong. Horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

Joshamee studied the teen for a long moment, thoughts speeding at well over fourteen knots, drinking a few more gulps of the rum before he sighed and offered it to the lad. Jack sat up properly and drank a gulp, feeling some of his inner tremors calm a bit before he returned the flask to its owner. Joshamee handed it back before he asked the question that has been plaguing his mind as soon as his suspicions were confirmed. And maybe even before.

"You were awfully close, Salazar and you, aye?"

Jack didn't answer immediately - and that was actually answer enough - but he took a swig of rum before nodding. "Yes."

"He loved you, didn't he?"

The other smiled bitterly. "Went after me to the gates of hell. Literally. Didn't even think much about it. I ruined a good man, Mr Gibbs."

"And you?"

"Hm?" The teen made the inquisitive noise as he took one final sip and gave the almost empty flask back to the old sailor. Joshamee didn't take it, wondering if this line of questioning was good for either of their sanities. Or health. He shuddered to think what Miss Dalma will do to him if he delayed or in any bad way influenced Jack's recovery.

"You, Jack. Did you ... Did you love him back?" It would explain a lot of Jack's often strange behavior. If, in his mind, it had only been a month since the Battle at the Devil's Triangle, then it was to be expected that he hadn't yet learned to live with it. And he was so young, hadn't even seen half of what his older self had. Or at least Gibbs thought so. The longer he talked to this eighteen year old lad, the more he felt he didn't know his friend at all.

Jack didn't drink this time. Seeing that Gibbs was in no hurry to take back the flask, he made sure it was properly closed before putting it aside on his cot, drawing his knees to his chest, one arm wound around them, and rested his chin there as his free hand held up his Compass. Gibbs leaned over to see what it was pointing to but he didn't recognize the direction as some particular place, only a heading. West. Towards the Atlantic.

"Do you know I wanted to go back, Mr Gibbs?"

"Back, Capt'n?" The old sailor repeated, not following.

"Back to the Triangle. I wanted to go back." At Gibbs' incredulous stare, he smiled bitterly, sorrowfully. "I wanted to go back. To see if there were any survivors. To see for myself what I have done. To mourn. To make sure nothing ... unnatural was taking place."

"Unnatural?" It would seem good ol' Gibbs had been reduced to repeating random words coming out of his Captain's mouth. Although it also might be the rum.

"Unnatural, Mr Gibbs. You see, the Devil's Triangle is cursed. Dreadfully cursed. The most gruesome curse you can find and then made worse, savvy?" Sparrow said as he stared off in the direction his Compass was pointing in. The Pearl shuddered under them, breaking him out of his daze and haunted black eyes met Gibbs' amber ones. Joshamee shivered. He had never seen Jack look like this. Not even when he had lost the Black Pearl to Barbossa, since he had been too determined to get her back instead of wallowing in regret. But he couldn't get this back, now could he? Especially not now, twenty years later. The despair of realizing he had never gone back like he had apparently wanted to was haunting him worse than a ghost with a grudge. He was too young to deal with this. Much too young.

"What curse be that?"

"I don't know," came the resigned answer. "One bad enough for even Tia Dalma to pity whichever poor sod is caught up in it. Anyway, I wanted to go there and ... Well, I wanted to check. To see if it had ... taken them. You see, mate, the curse targets only those who are not ... at the very least a bit content in their last moments. Rage, regret, sorrow ... Ir preys on it like a wild animal."

"And you fear they weren't content?" Gibbs asked carefully. Jack just snorted derisively.

"How could they be? They were the finest, strongest Navy force in the Atlantic and the Caribbean. The Spanish Main as a whole, including other navies and not just pirates, trembled in fear when the Silent Mary and her infamous captain was mentioned. And yet they were defeated by a boy pirate. How could they ever be content? It's like a final insult, to see that where a fleet of some of the strongest regional pirates had failed, a child that still stank of his mother's milk had succeeded. Had mocked and taunted them as he did it." He looked mournfully down at his faithful Compass. "They must hate me. I used to be a part of them, we were amigos, but then I ran away. What must have Armando thought of me? Did he learn to hate me? In life or in death?"

"You're selling yourself short, Jack." Joshamee cut in before the turn of the conversation could get any more depressing. "You're not just any pirate boy! You're Jack Sparrow!"

Said teen's face stretched in the most bitter, most sorrowful, heart wrenching smile he had ever laid his eyes on. "I wasn't until a month ago. Well, to the Merry's crew, maybe, although they preferred to call me 'birdie'. But the name Sparrow ... Armando Salazar gave it to me, Mr Gibbs. When I was fifteen, he used to call me his 'little Sparrow'. I guess it stuck, because he declared me 'Jack the Sparrow' as he yelled orders to chase and catch us. 'Jack the Sparrow' was heard as 'Jack Sparrow' and I guess the crew kind of just assumed it was because I hat taunted him up in the crow's nest with my arms 'flapping around like a little bird'. So I became Jack Sparrow."

Gibbs blinked, his jaw flapping open and closed, open and closed, a bit stunned by this revelation. He had always assumed that Jack had chosen the name himself. Or that some native tribe, maybe his mother's, had given it to him. He had never, ever, ever even considered it a possibility that it had once been a nickname, a term of endearment by such a deadly man who had, against all reason, apparently fallen in love with a corporal representation of all that he hated. For Jack was a pirate, through and through. Joshamee had never met someone who exuded piracy yet contradicted its most famous stereotypes like Jack Sparrow did. But, seeing as who he was and what he had seen and been through, it was only logical for Jack to be completely different from all other pirates navy ships chase around the globe.

He shook his head. That wasn't what they were discussing and it didn't matter at this point in time. "That doesn't matter. Even before you were Jack Sparrow, you were still Jack T-"

"Mr Gibbs," Jack cut him off with the hissed warning. "Might I remind you the first rule that is not to even be spoken of within my family?"

Said man flinched as he realized what he had almost said. It's not as though anyone could eavesdrop with the Spaniard guarding the great cabin, but what about said Spaniard? Would he listen in on them? Better not to find out, he guessed.

"No matter. You know what I mean. You take it all in stride. You were twelve, for god's sake, when we met after you were kidnapped by the Navy. And I've seen you make much more spectacular escapes over the years. And I know you, Jack. At least better than most. You're not nearly as much of a fool as you act." He patted the boy's shoulder, delighting in the absence of the earlier melancholy. If a little anger was all it was needed to push it back, then that was just fine with Gibbs. Soon enough, Jack would once again be at the helm and the wind, the sun, the horizon, the sea and the Pearl will turn his mood back to normal. Or at least he hoped it would. But he knew the lad won't be getting any more shuteye tonight. Not with what he'd just learned and no doubt after that nightmare he'd just had. "If Salazar knew you as half as well as I do, then he knew, too. He would know you were his equal, even though you were younger."

Jack, remembering the memory he had dreamed off, felt an internal wince but at least it didn't show on his face. No need to worry Gibbs any more than he already was. It wouldn't be good for his old heart. "Who knows." He said diplomatically, really not wanting to continue this conversation. The memories were still far too fresh, the sorrow too raw, the spilled blood still too warm. He watched as his Compass unwaveringly showed the direction to the Devil's Triangle and sighed before finally snapping it shut. It startled Gibbs out of some rant he had fallen into about Jack's adventures and ability to surprise even those who knew him well and the older man looked up. "If you don't mind me, Mr Gibbs, I'd rather like to get some more rest before I begin my day. There is an hour or so still until sunrise."

"O' course, Capt'n. I hope you rest well." Neither of them mentioned sleep, as it was dead obvious Jack was far too awake for that. Still, the two friends nodded at each other and with one last concerned look over his shoulder, Gibbs exited the room, shooing Frederico away. Jack lay in his bed and waited, for seemingly countless minutes, for them to move away and then waited some more until he could comfortably say that they were either distracted by something else or had went to try and get some shuteye bellow deck. To be sure he could leave his cabin without reprecautions, Jack opened his Compass again, wanting to know where each and every individual crew member was on the ship. Seeing as no one was on the main deck and there was only one person in the crow's nest and at the helm - his Pearl whispered to him what the two directions meant and where exactly everyone else was bellow deck - Jack carefully opened his door, making sure they don't squeak and slowly made his way down bellow. His beloved gladly whispered to him warnings, giving away who was awake and who was just dozing.

Jack waited for the opportune moment, watching Frederico finally force himself to sleep like military taught him before he started sneaking around the sleeping quarters. He was prepared for the lunge of the sword when he shook William, as well as the shout that would have followed it had he not shot out with both hands and stopped both. Will stilled when he saw who it was and relaxed his arm. Jack used the now free hand to place a finger to his lips to signal for silence and only removed his other hand when Turner nodded. He stepped back and gestured with a hand to follow, quietly, mind you, as he restarted the process of sneaking about. He remembered the prank he had played the last time he had come to wake someone up and looked over to the Admiral, finding him restless in sleep. Unlike last time with moving the boots - Will had not been happy to search the entire ship for them in the morning chill - he moved a few strands of bleaching light brown hair gently before removing his hand and walking away. He ignored Will's stare at his back as he listened to the Black Pearl whispering a safe location for them to have a private talk, giggling like a naughty little girl being let in on a secret.

Most people would not dare come within three feet of the person who had almost led a mutiny against them, but Jack was not most people. Case and point, one Hector Barbossa, self proclaimed mutineer and pretender for the position of Captain aboard Jack's beloved lady, was still walking about, unrestrained, unharmed and without constant supervision. And he was a far greater threat than Turner can ever hope to be. Anyway, not that Jack was afraid of either of them. Even if they did try something, his lass wouldn't stand for it. She had always been possessive of him - as had he of her - and she was extra possessive of him now, apparently ever since they had their reunion. But she had now grown almost as overprotective of him as his Da was and he had thought that impossible. He guessed it had mostly to do with his de-aging and all of that. She knew he could take care of himself but he was not the Jack she was now used to. He wondered briefly if she was struggling as much to accept his twenty years into the past change as he was hers twenty years into the future change. Right a pair of wackos, he and his bonny ship were.

When they finally arrived in one of the empty cargo holds - only one out of three; the Pearl was well stocked from their unexpected raid that came out of Captain Finch's stupid attempt at plundering a Pirate Lord's vessel - Will finally spoke up, questioning why they were here and why Jack had woken him in the middle of the night.

"Actually, sunrise is maybe an hour or so away. The night is pretty much over." Sparrow threw in jokingly before becoming dead serious. And a funny phrase, that was. For how were the dead serious? They were dead. He shook the thought away. "You said we needed to talk. I think I just provided us with a private moment or two."

The blacksmith turned pirate blinked at him with still sleepy eyes before understanding dawned on him through the mist of half sleep and he nodded. "Yes. I- Well, first, I wanted to apologize. For what I almost did." Turner looked like a scolded boy, almost fidgeting in place under the intense scrutiny of a man who should be his senior but was now instead so much younger than him. For god's sake, Will was twenty nine, eleven whole years older than Jack! He wondered briefly if Jack always felt like he needed to leave a good impression on Will like Will felt now towards Jack. Except Will was sure Jack, even at this age, was far less impressionable than Will had ever been. The teen already knew his way around now better than Will did even after all this time around pirates.

"Hey, I understand. You wanted to free your father. Although that's not something I can quite relate to." Jack shrugged and the (currently) older male frowned.

"You and your father don't get along?"

"Actually, I wouldn't know as of right now, but that's not the point I was trying to make. You see, my Da wouldn't be caught in some mess he can't get out of. Well, unless it involves saving me. Then all's fair game; even stupidity!" The dreadlocked teen shook his head and focused back on the topic at hand. It was best not to think about his father right now. He'll deal with him once they got to Shipwreck Cove and that will be interesting enough on its own. "But, that aside, you implied that you were willing to risk the wrath of Tia Dalma - and quite possibly a dozen others and Tia will be tough enough to handle all on her own, whelp - to tell me what's been going on since that whole ... Isla de Muerta business."

Will smiled at the silly, animated hand gestures that Jack used to emphasize his thoughts. Although Jack at this age already had some of his eccentricities, they still weren't all that well defined. Looks like Tia Dalma wasn't kidding when she said he had perfected a mask to fool others. Will still remembered their duel. Jack had not fought like that in the forge, that first time in Port Royal. He had not even fought Barbossa like this Jack had dueled for fun. A mask to fool, indeed. And it was doing quite a fine job.

"I still need to insist on apologizing-"

"Will," the other cut him off. His eyes were hard and blank. Turner shut up. "It won't take them long to realize I am indeed not in my cabin but rather wandering about. If you don't start talking, we won't get another chance like this. So, please, just ... Just tell me. Tell me everything."

William gulped at the look in Jack's eyes. "Everything?" Oh, if Tia Dalma hears of this, he was so dead.

The teenager just nodded.

Will took a deep breathe-

And told him. Told him everything.

00000

"And so here we are now, heading for Shipwreck Cove and you in your current ... condition. That's all of it." William was finishing up when the first morning rays of light started lighting up the lower decks of the Black Pearl, bitting his lip nervously when his audience just stayed still and quiet for a very long moment. "Jack?" He ventured carefully and it snapped Sparrow back to reality from inside his own thoughts.

He frowned. "I need to think." He quickly got back up to his feet from where they had sat down behind a few barrels during the long retelling and scuttled away before Will could try and stop him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"What have I done?"