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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Jenny couldn't help but roll her eyes a little when her father warned her away from Ion. "Like half the men in here don't seem a bit too interested?" she pointed out, one hand on her hip. She smiled as he handed the tankard back. "Oh aye, and all us Irish Catholics are thievin', murderin' rebels and fornicators right? I should think, with falsehoods and generalities followin' us around all our lives, we ought to be a bit slower to treat others the same, hm? Matthew 7, Da: Judge not lest ye be judged." There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye; she knew he sometimes thought he'd taught her verse and scripture a little too well. Not that she was without her own faults, but she did try to treat foreigners and strangers the way she wished her family had been treated, regardless of what awful things she'd heard of Gypsies and Frenchmen and other such types.

Mischief turned to slight alarm, however, when Michael handed her the knife. Though he'd made sure she knew how to get out of a spot of trouble if she needed, he'd never warned her to arm herself before. Taking it, she tucked it into the folds of her skirt. "Alright, Da. But just you see; he's a harmless gypsy, gone in a few days and we'll never see him again."

Wiping the concern from her features, Jenny strode briskly back to the table and sat. A chill ran up her arm, raising goosebumps when his fingers brushed hers though the day was already warm. "Have a care there," she warned as she sat. "I've seen many a man who makes much more than what strangers are willing to donate drink away his earnings and return to his family with nothing to show for a day's work."

She chuckled when he offered to let her use his opinion of the rum to sell it. "Well thank ye kindly, Mr. Vrabie," she said with a hint of playful sarcasm. After a moment she mentioned lightly, "Barman's me Da, by the way. Owns the place. So whatever it was you were doin' behind my back ya might wanna stop, coz he didn't like it." Jenny had a very good idea of what he'd been doing behind her back, but gave Ion the chance to wriggle out of it.

When he invited her to his camp Jenny's eyebrows shot up. The attention was nice, but that was too bold. Color rose in her face again as he added that he wanted her to bring the children, that it would be a chance for her to rest. That smile was almost her undoing, but she twisted her wedding ring around her finger almost as a reminder. John wasn't dead, just gone; she was still very much in love with her husband and being angry at him was no reason to...to...Oh dear God in Heaven! No, never that! Not only was it a sin, it was betrayal of the worst sort and no matter how poorly John had considered them, he didn't deserve that. But if ever there were a man to even come close to tempting her...No. No, the answer was no and that was final, and she would stand firm on that.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Vrabie I just really don't know..." Jenny hated the lack of firmness and conviction in her own voice. It was so obvious. "There's really no such thing as relaxing raising four children on your own. Not on my own I mean, but while my husband is away, of course. And Anne's health...well I'm afraid she'll feel left out, and she can't exert herself too much or it gets hard for her to breathe." She was floundering in her excuses and knew that he knew it. In all honesty, attractiveness not withstanding she would have loved a night off to enjoy herself. It had been so long since she had. Finally her green eyes met his, which seemed so familiar yet different. "I'm a married woman, Mr. Vrabie. A good Catholic from a respectable family who's worked very hard to earn that. I don't think I need tell you that neither Irish nor Catholics are looked upon favorably much in these parts, and we've all worked very hard to make it so. I'm having to work more now than--Never mind. The point is, surely you can see how it would look...?"
 
"Your father, hm?" Ion answered with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, you can assure him that I was doing nothing more than admiring his masterwork. Graceful lines, smooth curves..." He winked, and his voice was smooth and innocent. "However did he manage to make a simple bartop into a work of art?"

She sat, chatting as he drank, and he extended his offer for her to visit the camp. Her posture stiffened, but he could see a little hesitation in her expression as she protested. He raised his hands, as if fending off her words. "I know you're a married woman, Ms. Sparrow, and Mr. Sparrow is a lucky man. And I've no desire to heap scandal on you. That's why I invited your entire family, to a gathering of my entire family. It's just a party, not a rendezvous."

He finished off his mug. "Think of it - an evening's meal for your and your children, all for the cost of bringing a few carrots or the like for the stew. Entertainment that you'd normally have to pay for - singing and dancing and acrobatics and stories - all for the price of a little shoe leather." Leaning forward, he met her stunning green eyes with his own dark gaze. "A ship's captain doesn't have to work round the clock, every day. Why should a ship's captain's wife?"
 
She felt color rise in her cheeks again when Ion claimed to be admiring her father's 'masterwork.' He was far too charming and she knew why her father had given her the knife. Still Jenny chose to believe the best of him, but charmers were often deceitful. He explained calmly that it was nothing more than a party, nothing untoward. She knew this, of course, but think about how it might look, especially to others. But then again...since when did she give a damn about what others thought? They'd kept things quiet for as long as they could but already rumors were staring to spread about John having turned pirate and still she held her head high in polite company.

"Captain Sparrow," she corrected, "and if you're not going to bother with a Missus then you can just call me Jenny."

She tried to sound stern, annoyed even, but they both knew it was a bluff. Ion had her and he knew it; she couldn't argue with logic. It wasn't like her children would go hungry, or like it would cost them anything. Jenny's parents often told her that she worked too hard and was becoming too serious, that she didn't allow herself room for a little relaxation or fun anymore and one day she'd snap. Well she deserved to have fun, dammit! And surely John wouldn't begrudge her one night's frivolity with a new friend.

"A ship's captain has many men to help him run a tight ship," Jenny answered with a defeated sigh, "his wife has no such luxury. Being a parent is a round-the-clock, every day job, Mr. Vrabie. But...I'm sure the children would enjoy a chance to meet some new friends. And a night not cooking would be welcome." She couldn't believe she was doing this. He was handsome, charming, clearly interested...and she was deliberately putting herself in a scandalous position. "What time are we to meet you then?"
 
The secret, Ion knew, was in not trying to talk someone into something. No, it was in giving someone a reason, and then letting them talk themselves into it. And the lovely Missus Sparrow was no exception. He could see her accepting in her expression well before she said the words. And he managed not to whoop with delight when she asked when she should arrive. "Well," he said, "we generally work until sundown, so that makes a good time. Do you know the way, or shall I meet you here?"

The bell on the door jangled. "Jenny!" Michael called. "We've other patrons!"


Ben Halliwell stiffened a little as he saw Jenny, sitting at a table with one of the gypsies. Bad enough that a married woman would whore herself - although what else could you expect from the wife of a pirate? - but did she have to ply her trade in broad daylight? In front if her father?

Or was he her pimp? They were Catholic, after all.
 
Triumph sparkled in his gaze, but all Ion did was smile. She could feel the guilt bubbling up in her chest already, but why? It wasn't like she'd been unfaithful to John or like she was doing anything terrible or surreptitious. Jenny had plenty of male friends and what was the harm in making one more? "No, I don't know the way. Da stays open well after sundown, but I'm sure he can let me go early one night. They're always telling me I work too hard anyway."

Jenny winced when her father called out to her. She could hear the suspicion and admonishment in his tone, but said nothing and only stood up. She threw a quick smile at Ion before hurrying over to Ben Halliwell. After all, what was the difference between being friends with him and being friends with Ion? That Ion was a stranger? A gypsy? Well, Jenny Sparrow had had quite enough racism in her life to last two lifetimes, thank you very much, and she wouldn't treat a gypsy any differently than she would anyone else. She was sure John was hanging around with much less savory types these days anyway.

"Oi Ben." She smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek in greeting. It was something she'd done for years, since she'd married John, just a way of being friendly and recognizing him as a sort of surrogate brother-in-law. "Usual then? How's the apothecary?" The apothecary was still a sore spot for both her and her husband, but it was where Ben worked in the family business and there was no use trying to avoid it.
 
"I will meet you here at sundown, then."

Ben couldn't believe he was hearing this. She was brazen about it, shamelessly conducting her business right in front of him! And then she greeted him like a friend, kissing him on the cheek as if everything she'd doone were perfectly normal! "Oh, it's the same," he answered automatically. "A little slow right now."

He followed her to the table, trying not to watch the roll of her hips as she walked. Trying not to remember the way she'd looked as she touched herself, or the way she'd looked bent over the bar as she'd spread herself like the whore she was. "The usual would be fine," he agreed, sitting down. God, he tried not to think about how much he still wanted her.

"How much?" he asked. Every other man in Dover had been between her legs. Would itbe so bad to pay for his turn?
 
"Well, you know I'd never wish you out of business, but at least that means people aren't getting sick. Right?" Jenny smiled as he sat down. She started to turn but stopped when he asked how much. She frowned, her lips pouting.

"Same as usual," she said with a shrug. "S'why it's called the usual, right? I mean, you're at tuppence already." This was the reduced price, since Ben was "family." If Michael let all his children's in-laws eat and drink for free he'd be out of business in a year. "Unless you'd likesomething else instead?" she offered with a glance back toward the bar where Ben's meal was already waiting. Michael liked regulars like Ben; it gave him an idea of how much they would take in that day at absolute minimum.
 
"No, no, you're right," Ben agreed mechanically. "It does mean people aren't getting sick, which I guess is good for Dover. But it cuts into our earnings, and the Company's not renewed our contract with them. Father tried to ask for more, and he just upset Mr. Beckett."

Taking a seat, he asked for his usual and then tried to work up the nerve to proposition her professionally. All that he managed was a weak question about how much, which she clearly took to refer to the bill for his meal. "Something else?" he echoed, looking away. "No, no. The usual is fine. Maybe with a lager, this time, instead of a small beer?" He made himself chuckle, and look back. "Just one won't hurt, as long as I eat something with it."

Just then, he noticed Ion watching him intently. "And... who's that? I don't recognize him."
 
Jenny had to put a lot of effort into hiding a triumphant smirk when Ben mentioned that Christopher had upset Me. Beckett and the apothecary seemed to be losing the Company's business. She was well aware that her husband had secured that deal for him and that had John not been turned out more than two years ago it was likely the contract would have been renewed with little problem. She knew pride was a sin but she couldn't help but feel proud of her husband. She may have been angry with him but God how she loved him; to her eyes there could be no better man in the entire world, even if he did make some poor choices.

"Lager it is then," Jenny agreed with a smile when Ben changed his order. "One oughtn't hurt," she agreed, "all this in moderation, nothing over much."

Jenny started to turn to grab his food but he asked her about the stranger. She looked over her shoulder to follow his gaze, also seeing that Ion was staring rather intently. "Oh, that's Mister Vrabie," she said with a shrug. "Just one of those gypsies coming through town, harmless. The children saw him performing in the street and liked him, and he wanted something to drink so of course I'm going to bring in more business." Jenny smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry Ben. I'll be just fine." She was certain Ben had similar concerns as her father, but had seen nothing of Ion to suggest that it was true.
 
"Well, if you're sure..." Ben said, hesitantly. The woman might be a whore, but... well... Gypsies. You couldn't trust them, not one bit. And if he did something to her - as gypsies were known to do - her children would lose a mother. Hopefully, they didn't know what she was doing to care for them.

As Jenny headed for the bar to collect his meal, he sat and brooded on that. Which made it all the more surprising when the scrape of wood on wood and a gentle thump indicated that someone had joined him at his table. He looked up, to see the gypsy starring at him with a predatory grin. "She's something, isn't she?" he asked. "But that's not why I'm here. Fortune told?"

Ben blinked, trying to catch up with this "Mr. Vrabie" had said. "What?"

The gypsy held out his hand. "Cross my palm with silver, as the saying goes, and I'll tell you your fortune." A grin. "Of course, I'll actually do it for copper. My sister, now, she'd be worth the silver. But she has the Sight, and I merely have a small talent."

"Go away," Ben muttered.

"Oh, come now," the gypsy wheedled. "It's just a bit of a lark. Find out what the future holds for you. Love? Money? Su..."

"Go. Away," Ben snapped.

The gypsy pulled his hand back, holding it up defensively as he did. "Suit yourself. But I'll tell you a fortune for free, then." The chair scraped as he stood back up. "With a temper like that, you'll find misfortune where you least expect it."

Scowling, Ben pointedly turned and looked away. Ion shrugged and walked over to the bar, tossing a shilling to Michael. "Keep the change," he said. "For your Jenny." Then, with a grin and a tip of his hat, he headed for the door.
 
Michael scowled at the gypsy's back as he headed for the door. "I dun like him, Jenny," he grumbled. "I heard you two talkin'. Yer a good girl, Jennifer Agnes, an' ya know what sorts of whisperin's it'd bring. Why woulja put yerself in that position?"

"It's just a meal, Da," Jenny assured him with an exasperated sigh. "With the children, and his entire family about; plenty of witnesses and a free meal to boot. Can't ask for much more than that." She couldn't deny she was excited, if not at the prospect of spending more time with a charming man who flattered her then at the prospect of having fun again. "I'll be fine."

"The way he picked at Ben there," her father pointed out. "Who was only tryin' to look out for ya like a brother-in-law should...it don't set right with me. Harassing decent folk, makin' eyes at my married daughter..."

"He makes a living off making people feel special, Da," she pointed out. "Probably all just part of it. I'll be completely fine. If I've not come round by midnight to let you know I'm okay then by all means start a search and start with him. But I'm alright. You didn't raise some useless numpty who needs a man about to do anything for her, didja?" she pointed out. "I think John being...away proves that. Means I can judge character for meself and I can fight back just as well." And that was that. Jenny grabbed up Ben's supper and took it to him before Michael could say another word.

"What was that you and Ion was talkin' about?" she asked as she set down his plate and a tankard of lager.
 
"If you don't come round by midnight, Jennifer Sparrow," Michael mumbled, watching his daughter flounce impudently away, "you can believe I will."

"Another pint!" called Joseph Green, leaning on the bar and lifting his tankard.

Michael glared at him for a moment,, then shifted and headed towards him. "All right, all right, hold yer water. I'm coming."


"Hm..?" Ben asked, looking a little startled as plate and lager clattered on the table in front of him. "Oh. Uh... not much." He grimaced. "That... vagabond was trying to convince me he could tell me my future. Wanted me to pay him for a load of drivel and mummery."

He took a sip of the lager, and then a bite if the shepherd's pie. "But it reminds me... have you heard anything? About John?" He stared down at his plate, nit daring to see Jenny's expression. She might be a whore, but she'd been driven to it because her husband had abandoned her. Right? "The Company man... Mr. Beckerr. He said Jihn had... turned pirate."

Ut sounded absurd, out loud. Sure, John had been a scrapper and a scamp growing up, but... "it's nit true, is it? Not John?"
 
Jenny sighed and looked crestfallen. "I dunno, Ben," she admitted. "We haven't heard from him in months and I try not to take that to mean he is. Whatever's happened, he definitely isn't working for the Company anymore. I keep an eye on the papers, just in case. Speaking of..."

Jenny got up for a moment to grab a paper, which had just arrived. She looked at the front page and blanched. Her eyes gradually became wider as she read--slowly--and she looked sick. Wearily she rubbed get face.

"Oh no..." she moaned, tossing the paper towards Ben.

'Nassau Port Sacked' read the paper. The article went on to detail that not a single shot had been fired on part of the pirates, no one had died, and only two had sustained serious injury. It was the most bizarre pirate raid ever conceived, and had been led by a man who announced to the authorities that they would remember the day they had almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow.

"What're we gonna do?" Jenny moaned, face still in her hands. "We'll be ruined! Nobody will want to come here, no one else would hire me, and the children...! They'll lose all their friends! Nobody will want their child playing with the son of a pirate! I won't even be able to give voice lessons now, like I'd been thinking." She raised her face from her hands, looking pale, tired, and overwhelmed by despair. "What're we gonna do, Ben?" she repeated croakily. "We're done for. We'll have to move... Change our names..."
 
Ben took the paper as Jenny sank into the other chair, face buried in her hands. "Captain Jack Sparrow?" he murmured, sounding confused. Jack? But... John had never gone by Jack. And then he really heard what Jenny was saying, and her distress melted something in his heart. She wasn't a bad woman, just a woman who'd had to do bad things to help her family. "Jenny?" he said softly, starting to reach for her hand and then hesitating. "Jenny... it'll be all right."

Michael emerged from behind the bar, concern on his face. "Jennifer? What is it?" Wordlessly, Ben handed him the paper. Michael's expression hardened as he read the news. "God," he whispered, voice harsh. "I'd... I didn't want to believe those bastards. But..." He knelt by his daughter, taking her in his arms. "Shh... shhh, Jenny," he whispered, stroking her hair like she was a small child once more. "It... it'll be all right. It's a mistake. I'm sure of it." He bit his lip, tormented by his daughter's pain. "John's a good man, you know that. He... he wouldn't have turned pirate. This has to be wrong."

"I... I don't think so," Ben said, looking over the paper. "The ship was identified by Company agents as the Wicked Wench, even though this Captain Jack called it the Black Pearl." He shook his head at that. "Odd sort of name, that. The Black Pearl. I... no. That's not important." Tentatively, he placed his hand on Jenny's shoulder. "You don't have to move, Jenny. I'm... we're here for you."

"Aye," Michael agreed. "I still think it's a mistake. But... if it isn't..." He held her close again. "You're my daughter, Jennifer Sparrow. And I'll not let you or my grandchildren suffer, if John's gone and done something stupid." He forced a laugh. "Besides, I'm sure half of my clientele has engaged in piracy, once or twice." He kissed her forehead. "And... and maybe Sean can find a way to help him."
 
Ben said it aloud and that was it. Jenny's eyes had been brimming with tears and now they spilled over as she hid her face behind her hands. Captain Jack Sparrow, the pirate...that's who her husband was now. What a pair they made, she supposed: Jack the whoreson and Jenny the pirate's wife. Pirate's wench, she'd probably be called. Pirates don't have wives. This was the sort of life they were leaving their children. This might be the last thing that Anne...No. She couldn't think about Anne right now or she wouldn't be able to move but for the crushing despair. Why had God allowed all of this to happen? Why had he made their little girl sick then taken John's job, then put choices before him which forced him to turn to devilry and piracy for answers? It wasn't fair.

Ben's voice seemed far away as he tried to comfort her, then her father's deep timber cut through the din. He read the paper and took her in his arms and she fell on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying into her shoulder as she had when she was a little girl. At least her father was the one man she could always count on to be there when she needed him. Brief hope glimmered when Michael suggested that John wouldn't have turned pirate, but was instantly dashed as Ben mentioned the Wicked Wench. That had been John's ship. Then he added that the ship had been re-christened the Black Pearl and she choked and lifted her head. She hadn't caught that before.

"What did you say?" Unceremoniously Jenny snatched the paper away from him. Her eyes scanned the page and she covered her mouth in horror. "Why would he...? He...he named it after me." She moaned and leaned her head on her forearms. When Michael promised not to let them suffer she smiled into her arms and lifted her head. "You raised three children and we barely scraped by, Da," she pointed out quietly. "I won't burden you with me and mine. I'll...I'll find ways. I won't let you and Ma go into the poorhouse because of our bad decisions." She sniffled. "I'll pray on it all, because if he does decide to send money...well, it's ill-gotten gains, isn't it? But we would need it."

Patrons were beginning to stare. They would glance at the papers in their hands then over at the crying barmaid, whispering behind their hands and pointing in ways they thought were surreptitious. Already it was starting. If John ever came home, she thought bitterly, he had better be prepared for a raging wife and to sleep outside for at least a day or two. And dragging their son's name through the mud before he was ten...! No, if John Sparrow ever decided to come home he would be given a tongue lashing he would never forget.
 
"You pray on it, Jennifer," Michael said, kissing her forehead. "And remember this -no daughter of mine, nor any grandchildren, will go to the poorhouse while I can work. If need be, your mother can always add water to the soup." He eyed his other patrons with distaste. "Do you need the day? Maybe go help your ma in the kitchen, rather than serve?"


The eastern Atlantic

"I never thought the men would agree," Hector Barbarossa stated, watching the revelries from the quarterdeck. "Sail into Nassau, and not loot the whole city. But you did it."

Below, most of the crew swilled wine and rum, and sang and danced and ate. Only a skeleton crew manned the lines and rigging, content in the fact that their sacrifice had earned each of them a double share of the loot.

At the ship's wheel, Jack raised a fingerr. "You," he said, "should have more faith, Hector. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, but even I can't sack a whole city with a single ship's crew. And the Company warehouses had all of the concentrated wealth. Silks, tea, tobacco, the Company payroll..."

"And all of that is why we should be bound for Tortuga!" Hector said, wheeling. "Or Port Royale, or the Carolinas! Not Dover!" The big pirate gestured east. "A month's sail, when we could dispose of it all within a week!"

Jack swayed over to Hector. "I announced my plans before we set sail," he said. "And as long as I'm Captain of the Pearl, we sail as my compass steers us. And it steers us to Dover, and then to Isla Muerte and Cortez' lost treasure." He grinned. "And that should be enough wealth even for you."
 
"No." Jenny sniffed and shook her head, wiping her eyes and tucking away her hair. "No, we need the money. And uh, I'm... I'm not gonna hide. We are what we are. John's mother didn't hide who she was when his father left, and neither will I." She straightened her back and rolled back her shoulders. "I'll hold my head high, and blast whoever doesn't want to come here for it. John's my husband and I vowed to stand by him no matter what." Jenny stood, adopting a proud façade to hide her distress and sadness before looking down at Michael who was still sitting. "Don't we got a pub to run?"

~*~

Hector shook his head in frustration. "Damn your eyes, Jack Sparrow," he muttered. "And damn that woman and that brood. We're all gonna swing just so you can get some tail." He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. His second real act as captain was going to get them all killed.

~*~

Jenny worked hard. Harder than she could recently remember. Not that she lacked work ethic, but today she held a grim expression and spoke little, cleaning when she wasn't serving even if she'd already cleaned that place before. Mercifully, nightfall came quickly. The children came in from the house and waited at a table while their mother worked. Jenny forgot to keep an eye on the door for Ion.
 
The door to the inn jingled as it opened and then shut. Ion stared about him, watching the faintly curious and mostly hostile glances he got, and sighed just a little. Typical. They'd pay coin to see him perform, but God forbid he should join them in their drinks. He glanced around looking for inspiration, and found it in the sight of Jenny Sparrow cleaning a table. With a grin and a lifted eyebrow, he sent his hat flying into the air and rolling down his arm. As it did, he began to sing.

"While going to the town of Dover
"One fine morning last July
"While going up the road before me
"A red haired girl I chanced to spy..."

With a grin, he popped the hat back up into the air.

"I went up to her, says I "Young lady
"My donkey he will carry two
"But seeing as how you have a donkey
"To the Dover town I'll ride with you""

Batting the hat with a flourish, he sent it spinning to land upside down before the most occupied table.

"Now, when we reached the town of Dover
"I took her hand to say goodbye
"When a sailor cap'n stepped up beside me
"And he belted me in my left eye..."

"Keep your hands off red haired Jenny
"Her and I have long been wed
"Ye'll be right off this very morning
"For tonight we'll lie in a married bed"

Grinning, he began to mime actions to go along with the song he was rewriting on the fly.

"Now, I was feeling kind of peevish
"And my poor old eye was sad and sore
"So I tapped him gently with my hobnail
"And he fell back through the Anchor's door

"Then he went off to find his brother
"The hot biggest man you ever did meet
"And he gently tapped me with his knuckles
"And I was minus two front teeth."

Dramatically, he threw himself back to the floor with a thump. From there, he finished the chorus.

"Keep your hands off red haired Jenny
"Her and him have long been wed
"Ye'll be right off this very morning
"For tonight they'll lie in the Sparrow's bed."

Still grinning, he rolled back to his feet to a smattering of applause and a bit of coin landing in his hat. He hooked it with his foot, launching it up to land on his head without losing the money it contained, and flopped down into a chair to await the lovely bartender who was clearly appalled to find herself immortalized in song.
 
Jenny jumped at the sound of Ion's voice, suddenly bursting into song. She was lighting lamps on tables when he came in and even so she'd completely forgotten about him in her distress. His hat flew into the air and landed at one of her biggest tables. The second girl Michael employed, Rebecca, had come on shift an hour ago and stared at the handsome stranger before goggling at Jenny. Then she realized, much to her horror...he was singing about her!

"Oh no..." she moaned, hiding her face in her hands.

Even when she took them away her face was still deeply flushed in horror and embarrassment. Still Ion insisted on finishing his song, grinning all the while as though there were something very funny about it. Well, of course it was all very funny to him. He could pick up tomorrow and never even know about what had happened to John! And he seemed to think she didn't know how the song originally ended, with red-haired Mary running off with the singer. It was a song she'd grown up with, every word of which Michael had sworn up and down was true for the longest time with his own red-haired Mary though her mother's hair was now mostly gray. There were still wisps of red; the Conlan women had always aged gracefully.

"Please don't do that ever again," Jenny hissed as she lit the last of the lamps and pulled off her apron. She waved goodbye to her father before gathering up the children--a twin in each arm and Jack pushing Anne in her little cart--and leading the way outside. Under one twin that afternoon's paper was still clutched in her hand. "You have no idea how much worse you've just made things. We're...well, we're not ruined yet but we don't need muck like that muddying us any further. You don't have to stay here and deal with it. I do." She kept her voice low enough to force Jack out of the conversation regardless of how hard he tried to eavesdrop. After walking down the main road for a few minutes silently and stony-faced, she managed to twist her wrist under Bridgid long enough to hand Ion the paper. "It's flattering, really, but please don't. And especially not in front of my children. They know how that song really goes, and to suggest...unchristian that is."

She knew she shouldn't be terribly upset with Ion. Well, she did have some right, as something like that just before leaving with him after sundown in front of all those patrons likely looked awfully suspect. But it wasn't his fault John had a habit lately of making terrible, awful choices. Or of not thinking of his family at all. Really, how could he...a pirate...? Jenny didn't realize that she looked to be on the edge of crying, sniffing a little and gulping back tears as they walked through the gloaming. Even if she hadn't, her pale skin gave her away as her nose and eyes turned a blotchy pink despite the warm weather.
 
"Mrs. Sparrow, believe me!" Ion cried, concern filling his voice. "I had no desire to... to drag your reputation through the mud! I hadn't thought the song was well known here, not in Dover. So I changed the words, and mad a bit of a clown of myself to ease tension in the room." He smiled a sad, rueful smile. "Drifters and vagabonds and gypsies aren't always welcome in towns like this, after all."

Spinning, walking backwards, he looked down at Jack. "Good master Sparrow," he said gravely, "I have accidentally done your mother an unkindness. As the man of the house, will you stand for this?"

Jack looked at him blankly, slightly embarrassed by the attention that the question had drawn. "Uhm... what?"

Stopping, Ion squatted down. "I meant no harm, but I accidentally cast doubts on your mother's honor. You, sir, must do the honorable thing and demand satisfaction."

Squinting a little, Jack peered at the gypsy. "I don't..."

"Hit me," Ion said, tapping himself on the jaw with one finger. "Right he--OOOG!" Jack belted him with unexpected strength, knocking backwards on the cobblestones. The small audience laughed and applauded, and Ion pulled himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his jaw. "That... was harder than I expected."

"Dad taught me to throw a punch," Jack informed him, before looking at his mother with concern. "He asked me to, mom! You heard him!"

Shaking his head, Ion struggled to his feet. "I'll admit," he muttered ruefully, "that I'd intended a bit of a mummer's act. Some comedy, to bring a smile to that lovely face of yours." Opening his mouth, he worked his jaw. "Instead, I've learned that I should be a bit more careful with my assumptions."
 
"It isn't," Jenny informed him, talking about the song. "But we're not from Dover, my family and me. Carlow, a few days out of Dublin. Red-Haired Mary's an Irish song, Mr. Vrabie, and we're a musical sort of family; of course I would teach it to my children. It wouldn't have been a problem, had I not been the subject of the song just before walking out with a complete stranger while my husband's at sea. Catholics already have plenty of jokes cracked about having so many children, if you catch my meaning, and we don't need any more."

But Ion turned to start walking backwards before addressing Jack. She raised her eyebrows as he informed him that he'd done his mother and unkindness and the boy ought to demand satisfaction. Jenny stopped when the gypsy and her son did and turned to watch them. Ion insisted the boy hit him and Jack belted him proper, causing Jenny to purse her lips despite the satisfaction she secretly felt. She couldn't help but smile a little when Jack turned to her in an effort to avoid trouble.

"Yes, I heard him," she admitted with a nod. "Just remember the word of the Lord," she prompted, eliciting a sigh from both of her eldest.

"The Lord tests the righteous, but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence," Jack recited dully.

"And?"

"Do not envy a man of violence and do not choose any of his ways."

"Very good," Jenny said with an approving nod. Ion admitted he hadn't expected such a powerful blow and Jenny smiled a little. "Never assume anything about a Sparrow, Mr. Vrabie. We don't condone violence in our house, nor do we condone picking fights...but Jack's had a few scraps in defense of his sister and as such my husband insisted on teaching him how to fight. Wouldn't have our boy getting whipped in the streets." Here she sighed and shook her head, looking solemn again. "Lord knows there's likely many more fights in his future now, what with John doing what he's done."
 
"What John's doing..?" Ion mused aloud, unsure of what Jenny meant. "He's a ship captain, you said." Then his gaze found the paper she was holding, and realization dawned. "Oh. He's Captain Jack Sparrow?" It was phrased as a question, but it wasn't.

"No," Jack said. "Dad's name is John. I'm Jack."

Ion walked in silence for a moment, mulling this news over. "Uhm. They don't know yet, do they?" A motion of his head over his shoulder made it clear who 'they' were. He lapsed into silence for a bit, before speaking up again. "I... I know it's not my place to say, but... you said it yourself. He's a good man, right? I mean, he must be if he's got a wonderful woman like you and great kids like these. Is there..."

He bit off that question. "No, no. What I shoukd ask is... what happened? Why did he do it?"
 
"Of course they don't know!" Jenny murmured sharply. "He's their hero! Why would I destroy that? Hm? Even if he never comes home, I won't have them think ill of their father. I mean, I can barely..." She shook her head and sighed. She didn't want to think ill of him--he was her husband, after all--but what was she supposed to think of a pirate?

She nodded confirmation that John was a good man. He was! Jenny looked sideways at him when he bit off a question, wondering what he was about to ask. Instead he supplied two different ones, to which she sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "We haven't heard from him since before Christmas. His ships have habits of getting lost or caught in storms so I assumed that was what it was...but then Company men came, told us he was guilty of treason and demanded his pay back. His father is a ah--ahem--a sailor like him," her expression made it very clear what sort of a sailor that ways, "and he went to go find him. He hasn't come back, though, so I don't know what's passed between them yet. Captain Teague is usually very good about that sort of thing, too."

She paused, face growing blotchier, and she sniffed. Then it just all came forth. After all, what was the harm in confessing these things to a complete stranger she'd never see again? "I mean, I'd heard rumors but I chose not to believe. He wouldn't do that, not my husband. Then after you left the papers came this morning and I just...oh God Ion I don't know what to do. It could ruin us. Not just us, my family too. Da's worked so hard to establish a decent reputation, for himself and the pub, then twenty years later here's his daughter married to a bloody pirate." Jenny's eyes widened and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry I don't normally use language like that. It's just...is he thinking about us at all? He's been declared dead before, with his ship lost at sea; he knows how hard it is for us when we aren't sent his money too. Skipping meals while I run myself ragged...and he hasn't just not written, he hasn't sent money or food or anything! And I don't know why. It's like he just suddenly stopped caring for us." She sighed. "Maybe he did a long time ago. Maybe the only reason he came back last time is because I sent his father after him."

She paused another beat or two, tears shining in her eyes, before blinking them back and sniffling. "I'm sorry," Jenny croaked. "I didn't mean to just dump all of that on you. I shouldn't have, really. I just...I don't really have anyone to talk to who wouldn't think ill of him if I said all of that. I'm...I'm angry, so angry, but he's still my husband and I do still love him. I suppose I'm just...hurt and confused." Jenny turned her gaze to the cobblestone as they walked, too embarrassed to meet Ion's eye.
 
Jack wrapped his arms around his mother's waist, expression scared and sad. "Don't cry, mom," he said. "Dad'll be home soon."

Anne dragged herself out of her cart, carefully balancing so she could join her brother. "He promised!" she said, lending her voice to her brother''s assurances.

Ion stepped forward, as if intending to add to the embrace. Then he stopped. "Well," he said, eying the children and choosing his words carefully, "from what you said, writing might be difficult. Can't be too many ships he can use to send letters, right? Not in his situation. And for the rest? Well..."

He shrugged. "You might not have noticed, but..." glancing around, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm a gypsy. Lots of things get assumed about me, just from that, and only some of it is true. So, well, I'malways of the opinion that tavern tales aren't worth the cost of the beer."

He grinned, then produced a handkerchief from his sleeve with a flourish and dabbed at Jenny's eyes. "But true or not, ther's naught to be gained by moping. We've a party to attend, after all. If the tales aren't true, then you need a bit of fun to cheer up. And if they are..?"

He tucked the cloth away, and winked. "Why, then, a bit of fun is sorely needed to cheer you up! So either way, it'll do you good!"

He gestured broadly up the road. "Shall we?"
 
Jenny's heart melted as she felt Jack's arms wrap around her. He was getting so tall! And Anne toddled over on her atrophied little legs, already shoulder height to her brother. They were growing up so fast...too fast. She sighed and her expression softened though she hated herself for showing this weakness in front of them. She was the mother, she was supposed to be taking care of them, not the other way around.

"Oh my loves," she sighed, looking down at them, unable to embrace them with her arms full of toddlers. Brigid and Lucy both had wrapped their arms around her neck and laid their heads on her shoulders. They, too, were already three years old and growing quickly. Kneeling she set them down and gathered all of her children into a tight embrace, kissing each of their foreheads. "I know he'll be home soon, he did promise. I just miss him so terribly. I know we all do." Jenny stood, futily wiping at the tears on her cheeks. They were only joined by more.

Jenny couldn't help but smile when Ion dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief. "I'm not moping," she argued though she said it with a small smile. "And he's always found a way to write before, even in the hardest times. I suppose it might be harder now, though." She sniffed and nodded when Ion gestured up the road and followed him to the outskirts of town where the gypsies had made camp.
 
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