The Little Lady

Jack Sparrow was many things—handy, quick on his feet, easy to laugh, possibly even an insane genius—but forgetful was not one of them. He often wished he could be forgetful though; he had a feeling it would make life at sea a little easier. But, try though he might, he could never quite erase the memory of his Little Lady from mind. It had been ages since he'd seen her, not since she'd been a tempestuous six years old and he an ever so dapper twelve. They had parted on a promise, one that he hadn't kept yet.

He sighed and slumped further against the railing of his beloved Pearl, using his hat to shield his expression from the crew.

When it came right down to it, Jack was afraid that he'd waited too long. For a year or two he'd been stuck at sea while his father taught him the basics of piracy, so there'd been no time to go back to the girl. After that, though, he'd wanted to wait until he'd built up a name for himself, something to impress his Lucy with. By the time he'd finally had a title worth bragging about—Captain! Lucy would be awed speechless when she heard—the whole mess with Barbossa had come about, and it had taken him ten years to sort that trouble out.

They had separated nearly twenty years ago—it didn't seem like that long, but then Jack had treasured their time together more than anything. But still, eighteen years had come and gone, changing him in unimaginable ways, and he had no doubt that the Lucy he left behind was not the Lucinda he would find if he ever went back.

That was another problem that plagued him—for he did want to keep his word, no matter how long it took him to do it—how would he find her? In the years that had flown by, she might have left the island: been taken to England for schooling, or sent to another island to marry. His Lucy could literally be anywhere and, even if he did manage to catch up to wherever she'd gone, how would he recognize her? She would be about twenty-four by now, and would bare no resemblance to the rowdy creature he'd left behind. In the eighteen years that separated them, she would have become a true Lady.

What if she'd forgotten him? The thought made Jack feel sick—she'd been a ray of sunshine in a sea of endless gloom.

Despite only being twelve, Jack could curse with the best of them—and he did, long and low and at his father. The crazy old dog had just left him—taken Jack away from his mother, and then dropped him at the first available island.

"If you stay with your mum, she'll make you soft," Teague had said plainly. "Don't give me that look, boy, and don't think you can stay here, either. A ship is no place for a lad your age; give it a few years, and then we'll talk."

That had been nearly six years ago, and Jack had managed to skip at least four islands—though he was never sure if he was running from or to his father. He wanted to be a pirate, there was no doubt about that; he just didn't want to be Teague. His father was a strange man and, though often brilliant, he was as cruel as he was impartial.

So, Jack had taken to hopping islands, hoping to find a ship that would hire him, but no one wanted to sign on "Teague's boy"—the name was like a curse that would follow him throughout his whole life.

When the island hopping had turned out to be a dismal failure, Jack had taken to begging instead—the only ship that would take him was his father's, so he would wait for his father to find him—and though he had hated being known as "the beggar boy", he'd found a certain peace in his work. That didn't mean he found it interesting or enjoyable though.

So Jack cursed as boredom and a bruised pride ate away at him, spewing out every word he could think of to slight his absent father.

And that had been precisely when the little Lords-in-training found him. Their ridiculously sensitive ears burning from Jack's swearing, they decided to beat some manners into him. So, Jack ran—not because he was frightened or because he thought he couldn't hold his own against the young nobility, but because it was more exciting if they chased him. He made sure to always run slow enough to give them the hope of catching him, but fast enough to always stay out of their hands.

His first and only mistake was looking over his shoulder to make sure they were still right behind him, for it seemed that no sooner had he turned his head than he was crashing into something soft and small. When the crying started almost immediately, he knew it must have been a little girl.

Not in the mood to play nicely, Jack had dusted himself off and allowed one of the other boys to help the girl up. Her snuffling was almost pathetic, but once she was on her feet, her anger bloomed. She snapped and snarled at him, finally demanding that he look at her, so he did. His world was never quite the same after that.

The girl standing before him had to be at least half his age, but even at a tender six, she seemed uncommonly beautiful. She was pale, likely from staying indoors as much as possible, her hair was dark with just the vaguest hint of auburn highlights, her eyes were a clear hazel, and she was wearing a pale blue dress that now had a muddy streak from neck to knee. The little girl—Lucinda, she'd said, but she looked like a Lucy to him—stood before him, fluffed up with righteous indignation, and he couldn't help but smile at her.

Though Lucy probably hadn't felt the same until many months later, he'd considered her a friend from that moment onward. He'd seen a wanderlust in her young eyes, the same thirst for more that Jack felt in his own soul—he'd known in that moment that they were kindred spirits. And it had taken a while, be he'd eventually managed to convince her of the same fact. They had become thick as thieves, often stealing away to play games or tell stories.

He wanted to kiss her, and that thought kept him in agony. She was only six, he couldn't kiss her! Lucy was so much younger than him and she still thought boys were disgusting, although Jack did seem to be the exception to her rule. But he didn't want to kiss her unless she knew what it meant, and at her age she would likely just think it another thing friends did.

And that was the problem with taking a fancy to someone half your age. At twelve, Jack figured himself old enough to begin contemplating the intricacies of love, but Lucy was too young so he said nothing, did nothing. And it was killing him.

Every time Jack looked at her, every time they snuck away together, his chest felt tight and he thought about how wonderful it would be if they never had to be separated. Whenever they played tag, he wanted to catch her tight to him and never let her go; when they clashed "swords" he wanted to kiss her little lips until she said that she loved him. However, he held himself in check, played the nice friend, and Lucy was never any the wiser for it.

But the butler knew.

A wheezy old man by the name of Henry, the Maplethorpe's butler saw right through "Sparrow", knew exactly why a boy twice Lucy's age continued to play with her—and he didn't approve. So Henry took it upon himself to chase the boy away. It didn't deter Jack, if anything it only made him want Lucy more; as much as it pained him to admit it, he was his father's son, and pirates were always obsessed with treasures that didn't belong to them. The Little Lady was the treasure he wanted, no man would take that from him.

To be fair though, Jack might have been discouraged if it hadn't been for the maids. The Maplethorpe's maids were just as insightful as their butler, but infinitely kinder, and they had realized Jack's secret too. They had thought it was sweetly romantic, if a bit improbable, and had offered him words of encouragement and enough coins to outbid Henry's disapproval.

"What would you do if Henry ever managed to chase you away for good?" Lucy asked him one afternoon.

"Well, I'd just have to steal you away then, wouldn't I?" He said it lightly, jokingly, and Lucy laughed and smiled with him, but he meant every word. Jack didn't want to be separated from her—not yet, maybe not ever—so he would kidnap her if the time ever called for it.

Jack smiled a little, remembering how absolutely in love with Lucy he'd been, how determined he'd been to never leave her side. It hadn't taken long for life to destroy that rosy dream though. No sooner had he resolved to never be parted from his Little Lady than he had received word from his father. Teague had always had the worst timing possible, but that had been like a kick to the gut for the young boy.

On the one hand had been Lucy, who he'd wanted beyond all reasoning, and on the other hand had been piracy, the only career he'd ever thought to try his hand at. At the age of twelve, he'd been forced to choose between desire and destiny.

He tried not to frown around Lucy, tried not to let her know how hurt and confused he was becoming, but she seemed to know anyway, though she never asked him about it. Jack felt like a drowning man: he knew what he had to do, but the longer he waited to act, the further he fell. Teague knew where he was, would show up any day now to collect him, and he still hadn't told Lucy that he was leaving.

For a few days, Jack had toyed with the idea of sneaking Lucy off to the harbor, where they could hop islands together until Teague got tired of chasing them, but he knew somehow that it wouldn't work. Someone like Lucy couldn't live on the run, Jack really did want to become a pirate, and it was laughable to think that Teague would ever just give up.

So he had just pretended that nothing was wrong instead, which hadn't worked out very well, since Lucy knew something wasn't right.

On the very last day they'd be together, Jack gave her his coin purse—full of all the coins the butler and the maids had given him, for he hadn't wanted to spend that money. He'd half joked that it was something to remember him by, a token of his love, but it hadn't really been a joke and, somehow, she'd known it.

And Lucy, usually so sweet and happy, was suddenly crying and angry with him, which was the last thing he wanted, but—

"Doesn't have much faith in you, does she, boy?"

—Teague had found him.

The moment slammed into Jack with painful clarity: this was it; he was going away with his father to become a pirate. He was leaving Lucy.

And his father, ever the emotional void, didn't particularly seem to care that his son was facing the largest crisis of his short life. "You said your goodbyes yet?" was all the man asked before walking away, fully expecting the boy to follow.

Jack had felt sick when he'd turned his eyes back to Lucy, who was still crying but now looking scared as well. Her hazel eyes were begging him not to leave. And so he had done the only thing he could: make a promise he wasn't sure he would be able to keep. But he'd had to give them both some kind of hope!

Jack came close to her, wishing he could catch her up in a fierce hug, preferably one that would never end. "It's not really goodbye," he told her softly. "Nothing can keep us apart, remember? Not a witchy Governess or a cranky butler—not even the ocean itself." He leaned closer still, his throat nearly closing at the thought of leaving her. "I'll come back, I promise."

Teague, growing impatient, shouted for him. "Come along, Jack."

Jack wanted that kiss he'd never been bold or wicked enough to take, but he didn't want Lucy mad at him in their last moments together. So, instead, he gave her a sad smile, and brushed his lips against her knuckles, like he was some sort of Lordling.

And, thanks to fate and circumstance, that had been the last time Jack had seen the Little Lady. He'd carried her memory with him through all the years though—changing his surname to Sparrow in honor of the nickname she'd given him. He often wondered, when he was in one of his more fanciful moods, if his Lucy had ever connected the beggar boy she'd known to the infamous Jack Sparrow.

A/N: To ease just a little bit of confusion, I'd like to mention that this takes place just after the event of Curse Of The Black Pearl. Though I did enjoy the other two movies, I haven't seen them enough to work them into this plot.

Also, this one was a little bit less 'I remember all the fun I had with my childhood friend' and a bit more 'I remember how crazy my childhood friend drove me.'

Considering the direction these two chapters/ficlets have both taken, there may be more to come.

Please Review!

Disclaimer: I do not anything from Pirates of the Caribbean, nor am I making any money off this story.