Title: Jack

Author: Berne

Rating: PG

Characters: Jack, Barbossa

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio, various studios including but not limited to First Mate Productions Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer Films, and Walt Disney Pictures. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.AN: Written for Posting Whore's request.

Jack

rum

Contrary to popular belief, it was Jack who found Barbossa on that first evening. He had been drinking in some nameless tavern in the Far East, when he had felt eyes upon him. Not a strange occurrence, true enough, but these held neither fear nor greed nor loathing. By the powers, they were uncommonly clever. They glittered in the guttering candlelight, those eyes, and when Jack flashed his teeth at him in an inviting almost-grin, Barbossa couldn't help but notice that they glittered too.

wenches

From that moment onwards, he had caught but glimpses of Jack. He was forever disappearing around a street bend, weaving through the crowds, winding around gaggles of whippet-thin wenches. But Barbossa could be a very patient man, when the need called for it. And so he waited.

gold

Jack had always had an eye for finery, and eastern markets amounted to a treasure horde. Reams of crimson, jars of saffron, gilt jewellery studded with rubies. A pirate's haven, to be sure, were it not for that accursed Trading Company.

Apparently Jack agreed, because Barbossa discovered him around the next street corner, perched on top of a pile of wine-stained silks, slipping a golden brooch into his pocket.

the black pearl

It didn't take long for Barbossa to realise that Jack considered the Black Pearl his home. They had only just made sail, course set, pockets brimming with coins and jewels and other such riches, when Jack had made it clear that sleeping quarters less than the captain's cabin would not satisfy.

And who was Barbossa to decline? He was becoming accustomed to Jack's chatter and, on the odd lonely night, he found that the silence was far too loud to bear.

jack

Five years later and Jack was still at his side. Five years later and Barbossa found himself in the rather agreeable position of looking down his nose at one hapless Jack Sparrow, that final golden medallion at long last in his grasp.

"Why thank ye, Jack," he murmured, feeling the chain slide through his fingers as though water.

The insufferable man gave a tight, sarcastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Not you. We named the monkey 'Jack'."

Barbossa sensed more than saw the grin that Jack flashed, a baring of teeth that was never quite friendly and had not a gold piece in it.