Sorry for the wait on this one, kids, got a little caught up with work-- although earlier I sat down and managed to plot out the rest of this story. Remember how I said I could probably finish it in a few more chapters? Uh, yeah, that was a blatant lie. Looks like this one's going to be going on for awhile, heh. However, now that it's all mapped out, it will be much easier to fill in the blanks and continue to get more chapters up. Review as you see fit, I appreciate it!
...TanzFieber
The seasons came and went, rain and shine, day in and day out. More sun and more storms. More days and more weeks. Since the days of nightmares, since the day of Joshamee Gibbs's untimely demise, things aboard the Black Pearl had once again smoothed out into a comfortable routine. Jack Sparrow still stood at the helm through all weather, Cotton still endlessly coiled the long ropes, Marty still kept the sails patched, and Kelsea still made faces at the captain while his back was turned. In fact, the only difference was the decline of awkwardness between father and daughter-- they had strolled out of the captain's quarters the morning after the second bout of nightmares as a pair and ever since, Kelsea and Jack Sparrow were quite the duo. That didn't mean, however, that the faces stopped because as long as it mildly annoyed Jack, Kelsea was at it."Whelp, f'I catch ye mockin' me m'gonna tan yer ungrateful liddle hide!" He shouted, whirling around to face her. For her part, Kelsea, who had been creeping along behind him with her tongue out and eyes crossed, was be the picture of innocence as soon as turned.
"Who, me? Cap'n Sparrow, m'only here t'do yer bidding!" she claimed, hands out placatingly. Jack could only roll his eyes and turn again to go on his way and Kelsea was immediately mimicking him, mouthing his words and waving her arms around drunkenly.
"I bloody mean it, whelp!"
"What? M'not doin' anythin'!"
And so things continued on. Each day she mocked him for a few hours, and he would yell at her for a few hours. In the afternoons he would teach her about sailing-- although if ever a crewman passed too near his kindly instruction would become a barking order and she, understanding at last that the man only wanted to protect his dangerous reputation, would plaster on a mask of fear and awe. It didn't really make sense that they bothered, in a way, for the crew all knew that their captain had a soft spot for the girl.
For those initial few nights after the first she spent in his bed, Kelsea would still go to sleep in Gibbs's former cabin. Inevitably she would scream out during a nightmare, and inevitably Jack would go stumbling in and wake her. Inevitably he would try to leave, and inevitably she wouldn't want him to. Inevitably he would refuse to stay on the floor, and inevitably she would end up in his bed. Finally, Jack simply decided that if she was going to end up in his room anyhow, she might as well start out there and save him the blind, bumping trips into the other room that left him sore all over.
So, as fate would have it, one day Kelsea awoke to find her ol' Jack stringing a hammock up in the corner of the room, just next to the bed.
Kelsea Sparrow yawned and stretched, surreptitiously burying her head in the pillow and breathing in the scent that she had by now decided was the true meaning of comfort. However, her eyes sprang open at the sound of banging and swearing. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the young girl peered over to witness a rather strange sight.
"Um…What're ye doin', Cap'n..?"
Jack Sparrow had nails clenched in his teeth and a wooden mallet in one hand as he tried to single-handedly pound one of the metal bits into the wall. He was none-too-successful and cursed at every opportunity. Finally, he noticed that she was awake and spat out the nails, sighing exasperatedly.
"M'hanging up a hammock, whatsit look like?"
Kelsea contemplated this for a moment before climbing out of bed and going over to help him. She wasn't stupid-- she realized that it would be rather difficult to drive in a nail with only one good hand to work with.
"Why're ye hangin' up a hammock, then?"
"'Cause you, whelp, are determined t'disturb me sleep every night wiv yer caterwauling an' then I have t'go an' bloody retrieve ye an' I have bruises all over me shins as it as an'…" Jack trailed off here with another sigh as she relieved him of the mallet. "an' I figger it'll be easier t'save meself a trip by lettin' ye sleep in this hammock t'begin wiv."
"Oh."
And the hammock was hung and the precedence was set… but more often than not the morning sun crept in and found one bed full of a captain snoring lightly with a daughter curled against his side.
As I said, though, that didn't mean that the mocking faces stopped-- because as I said, as long as it mildly annoyed Jack, Kelsea was at it. It was due to this very habit, in fact, that one day a few weeks after Gibbs's death something else changed--
THE DAY IN QUESTION…
"Brace th'yard lines!" Captain Jack called out as he swagger-strode across the main decks. "C'mon, ye dozy cads, toute suite!" he added after a moment-- not because they weren't moving fast enough, but because he enjoyed shouting orders.
"Aye, sir!" came the chorus of replies, although each man secretly rolled their eyes and chuckled. Besides the fact that they knew he was full of hot-air, there was also the rather amusing spectacle of Kelsea doing an over-exaggerated, but comically accurate, impression of the captain not two feet behind him. She walked the rolling walk and made the over-expressive faces and accentuated it all with her hands and Marty the dwarf straight out laughed, not being able to help himself.
"KELSEA SPARROW M'GONNA HANG YE FROM TH'BLEEDIN' BOWSPRIT BY YER BOOTSTRAPS!" Captain Jack Sparrow spun on his heel to face the girl with a very agitated look across his piratical features, but his expression changed as he caught sight of hers. The girl in question was giving him a rather odd look, one that bespoke of surprise and uncertainty. Finally, she spoke.
"What'd you call me, Cap'n?"
It was then that Jack realized what had just come out of his mouth, and also why she was looking at him in such a way. He had just then, for the first time since he had known the girl, called her by her name. As he had said to Gibbs on the day he had learned of the given title, 'whelp' would suit him just fine-- and so it had, until just then. Even on previous, more affectionate, occasions, he had called her 'lass.' Now, the cat was out of the bag. Bugger.
"I… I, er…" Jack made a face as she waited for his reponse. "Well, s'yer bloody name, innit?"
Kelsea nodded her head and smiled-- so widely that it scrunched up her nose and made for a very adorable expression. Feeling his insides melt a bit, Captain Sparrow quickly cleared his throat gruffly.
"Away wiv ye, whelp, go scrub something before I really do string ye from th'mast." He pulled his hat off and crammed it down on her head so that it covered her eyes, swatting her away.
"Aye aye, Cap'n Sparrow!"
PRESENTLY…
"OUCH--! BLOODY--!" Kelsea Sparrow yelped as the a mop-handle smacked down on her knuckles sharply, causing her own piece of cleaning implement to clatter to the deck for the third time in about five minutes. She scowled and gulped as the opposing broken tip of handle rose to her throat, raising her hands in surrender.
"What've I said about keepin' yer sword-point up, Kels, eh?" Captain Jack grinned a very aggravating, gold-studded grin as he brandished the handle at his daughter. For her part, the 12-year-old rolled her eyes and bent to retrieve her own wooden weapon.
"I haven' GOT a bloody sword-- all I've got is this cursed piece of broom!" she countered, her dark eyes flashing.
It was a typical sunny day on the Caribbean sea and the Black Pearl ploughed on at an easy rate with Cotton taking watch at the helm. The Sparrows were up on the foc'sle, had been all afternoon, passing the hours with a lesson in dueling. For obvious safety reasons, instead of swords they were using halves of mop handles and now Kelsea tossed hers down in frustration.
"Givin' up so soon t'day, whelp?" Jack still called her by the familiar title now and again, mostly just when he was ribbing her-- as he was now. Shooting him a look, the dark-haired girl shook her head.
"Jus' givin' yer old bones a rest, father of mine."
"Captain. Captain father-o'-yers, Luv."
Chuckling easily, the pair fell out of fighting formation and leaned back on the railings. The truth was, Jack was glad of the break-- the girl was an astoundingly quick study and it was all he could do to best her. He breathed deep of the salty breeze and glanced over to his daughter who was staring out at the horizon.
"What's on yer mind, Kelsea?"
Glancing back at him, the girl merely readjusted her bandana and shrugged. "Nothin' important."
"My incredibly intuitive sense of the female mind tells me that you are troubled. Let's 'ave it."
Kelsea rolled her eyes at him before turning back to gaze at the sea, but murmured one sentence that wiped the smile off of his face. "Jus' thinkin' 'bout Mr. Gibbs…"
Jack Sparrow sighed, his matching the one that came out of her mouth at the same time. He knew that she missed the kindly man terribly-- even after three years she still mumbled his name in her sleep on some nights so that he would have to stroke her hair until she slumbered more peacefully. It wasn't that he, Captain Jack, didn't miss his first-mate just as much because he did… he was just better at fighting off the emotion better than his twelve-year-old was. "We all miss 'im, Luv…"
"I know that." the young girl tried to surreptitiously wipe her teary eyes with her sleeve, but Jack noticed anyway and awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder, wishing that there was something he could say to make her feel better. Suddenly, an idea came to him.
"I've 'ad a thought-- why don' we pick up our illustrious weapons an' I'll beat ye some more?"
Kelsea smiled a small smile and responded to his teasing with a snort. "M'gonna beatchya this time, Cap'n Jack." She bent to retrieve both handles, but before she could Jack's boot came down upon them. "What?"
"Just a moment, lass-- Oi! Mr. Cotton!" He turned away from her and strode over to the helm where he had a brief conversation with the man steering. Cotton nodded his head and drew his sword, handing it over to the captain. "Much obliged, mate," he stated before returning to where Kelsea stood.
"Y'mean yer lettin' me use that sword?" she asked incredulously, but he shook his head.
"No. I'm lettin' ye use this sword." Jack pushed back his coat and laid his hand on the hilt of his own beloved weapon, drawing it with a flourish. Flipping it expertly, he presented it to his astounded child.
"Cap'n?" she squeaked, almost nervous to touch the battle-scarred but well-kept weapon. "S'yer sword--"
Jack only rolled his eyes at her observation and chuckled, still holding it out. "M'aware of that, Kels, an' for th'record… it was my sword. Now it's yours."
Finally the raven-haired girl wrapped her fingers around the worn hilt and took it from him, her eyes riveted on the blade. She couldn't believe what he was telling her. It was hers now--?
"Ye've got a mind fer dueling, Kelsea Sparrow… High time ye had a blade like a proper buccaneer. That one will serve ye well, s'long as ye take care of it."
Kelsea gulped and nodded, not noticing the affectionate gaze that Jack had leveled at her. After a few moments of silence, he broke it by clearing his throat. She looked up to find the blade of Cotton's sword pointed at her throat.
"Now. En garde."