Neela Sparrow

Neela gave a small smile as she handed 'Bootstrap' Bill Turner, who became a Navy man several years ago, a package and a letter, "When Jack arrives an' asks for where I am, give him those. Understand?"

"Yes…but why won't you be waiting for Jack?" Bootstrap asked, placing the two items aside.

"I'm goin' on a trip soon, William, an' the ship sets sail before Jack comes back," Neela explained before leaving. Her thoughts drifted to Jack as she returned to their home and cleaned up one last time before taking a seat in a chair. After waiting a short while, a soft smile crossed her face as she heard the door knock and told the person on the other side to come in.

Jameson Grant Teague

Teague cautiously knocked on the door in front of him and opened the door when a voice inside beckoned him in. He noticed a woman sitting at a table in the middle of the room and paused a moment before speaking, "Hullo Neela…been a long time."

Neela nodded her head, "Nearly ten years…I still remember the last time I saw you, mainly what you an' Jack did to each other."

Teague rubbed the scar on his left hand, "Why'd you send tha' letter, askin' me ta come here?"

Neela sighed, "I feel that time for me is almost up, that my death is coming soon…I want to sail on the seas one last time and to atone for any wrongs in my past. The biggest one was to you."

"Mebbe it was punishment for something've done in me past?" Teague joked.

Neela smiled, "Are you goin' to allow me on your ship or not, Teague?"

Teague smiled and gave an over extravagant bow, "Your sea chariot awaits, madam."

Neela gave a small laugh as she stood and grabbed a small bag next to her and walked out of her house, for the last time.

William Turner

Bootstrap looked at the items Neela had left with him, a letter and a wrapped package, and said to himself, "Wonder how Jack's goin' to take this?"

"How am I goin' ta take wot?" A voice asked.

Bootstrap looked up and saw Jack standing in the doorway, his clothes looking more weatherworn and the bandana around his head, once a vibrant crimson, had begun to fade slightly. Jack grinned, showing off some of his golden teeth that he claimed to have gotten after being smacked in the mouth by a magical medallion, "Jack, did you just get back?"

"Yep, you know where ma mum is? She ain't at th' house," A worried look crossed his face.

Bootstrap handed Jack the letter from his mother, "She left tha' with me, this package too."

Jack,

I'm sorry to have left like this, but there is little time for me in the world. You know what it is like to be at sea, to breathe in the salt-air and the wind at your back. I have most likely left with Teague, to make amends to him, so I can re-experience these joys again. Take care of yourself Jack and remember the most important thing I've ever taught you: Everyone deserves to have their freedom, to live their life and do what they please, irregardless of what family or class they were born into, how much money they have, whether they are a man, woman, or child, or what the color of their skin is. Always remember that Jack. May there always be a strong wind to guide you.

Your mother,

Neela Sparrow

Jack carefully folded the letter and put it in his jacket pocket before picking up the package and quickly opening it. He let out a small laugh when he saw it was a tricorn hat, with one edge rolled up like a scroll. There was a note that simply read: Every good Captain needs a hat on his head to keep him cool and warm. Jack tucked the note into the same pocket as the letter before putting the hat on, smiling at the fact it was a perfect fit.

"Are ya stayin' a while?" Bill asked.

"Not 'til after me next trip; Beck wants me to pick up some more cargo before I can take a break," Jack said, adjusting his hat slightly, "But when I get back, th' three o' us are gonna git together an' have some fun, like when we were little."

Bill smiled, "Great idea Jack, see you when you get back." Jack tilted his hat slightly before swaggering out the door.

Cutler Beckett

Sir Cutler Beckett looked up as he saw Jack swagger into the room, constantly adjusting his hat, "You're late."

"Sorry, Beck, I was looking fer my mum…found out she left," Jack explained, adjusting his hat one last time before leaving it alone, "What was th' job ya wanted me ta do?"

"I need you to go to Africa, there's some very special cargo that needs to be transported," Cutler said before adding, "and how many times must I tell you to stop calling me that?"

Jack shrugged, "Can't be 'elped, thin' of habit. When should I set sail?"

"Soon, either tonight or tomorrow," Cutler said before dismissing Jack.

"Fair enough," Jack said as he started out the door before stopping and turning around, "When I get back, th' three of us will have a couple of drinks; wot you say ta tha' Beck?"

Cutler narrowed his eyes, "Stop calling me that."

"I'll take tha' as a 'yes'." Jack smirked before ducking out.

Cutler noticed the glare his aide, Anton Mercer, sent Jack before he spoke, "Why do you allow a man like that even to work for you, sir?"

"I'm a man of my word. I promised Jack a job and allow him to keep said job as long as he does his job right…also, he is a natural sailor and captain as well as a trustworthy person," Cutler said, looking through several papers.

Jack Caden Sparrow

Jack took one more look at the letter his mother wrote to him as he walked slowly across his ship. A tear started to fall from his eye before he quickly wiped it away, since it wouldn't be right for a grown man to cry. He got to the part where his mother said she was going to make amends with Teague and thought that if she could face her past and settle things with Teague; maybe he could do the same? He didn't linger to long on those thoughts before he remembered he was on his way to pick up some special cargo for Cutler. He looked over his shoulder at the ship that Cutler had allowed him to have and smirked at the name carved on the back: 'The Wicked Wrench'. He recalled that he was very drunk at the time he named her but figured that he might as well keep it since it was already carved in. The humor at the memory faded quickly when he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth dropping in shock. He nearly dropped his letter, but he was thankfully quick enough to take a hold of it and put it back in pocket for safekeeping. He felt himself grow cold but his blood boiled hot in anger at what the 'cargo' was supposed to be: slaves. His heart clenched as he saw that some had been beaten and that some were just children. His mother's words in the letter came to mind, about everyone deserving freedom and had to make a major decision right there on what he would do but his mind and heart were divided; would he keep to his job and transport them as Cutler had said or would he refuse to do so or would he do something else entirely? 'Bloody hell, I need rum…'