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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"Aye well, he's done some foolish shit since then," Jenny argued with a scowl. "Ten years it's been an' a lot's changed. Ten years! An' y'know what? He missed it. Our anniversary...Jack's ninth birthday...the twins...He's missin' all of it!" She took another long, deep drink. God this felt good! She'd hate herself in the morning and she knew it; swearing, drinking to excess, noticing not for the first time how very damned attractive Ion was...but that was tomorrow. This was tonight.

"Oi! Don't you tell me how ta drink!" Jenny tried to pull her drink back, nudging him with her foot. She'd set aside her shoes and stockings a cup ago, wanting to feel the grass beneath her feet. "I'm the one works in a pub! Plus I'm Irish an' we know how ta drink! So don't you try to boss me!" A grin sneaked over her lips as she played at tug of war with the mug. She giggled as cider sloshed out down his shirt. "You did deserve it," she agreed. "Waste of good booze that is. Oughtta be ashamed." With another grin she allowed him to pull away her mug and grabbed his, drinking away what he had spilled from hers. "Penance," she assured him with a nod, setting his cup down.

Then he asked her to dance. Jenny, sober Jenny, never would have; he was obviously interested in her, she was upset and inebriated, and her husband wasn't around. But those were all the reasons drunk Jenny took his hand with a smile. This would fix John's wagon! Show him for turning pirate and dying, never saying a word--not a damn word!--or sending money or anything. A dance with a charming gypsy man would show him for leaving his wife and children! Jenny rose and with a laugh pulled Ion out to where others were dancing as well while she stood all too close to him.
 
"Careful... I don't work in a pub, and I'm not Irish," Ion laughed as Jenny pulled him out among the other dancers. "I don't think I can guarantee I'll be any good at this." He stumbled a little, grinning and recovering as the other dancers laughed. "Course, I don't think anyone'll be looking at me." Another grin, this time directed at Jenny. "Not anyone with any sense, anyway."

The dance was a fast-paced, communal thing, starting by hooking arms and whirling around one another. Ion swayed a little, clearly playing it up as he didn't fall, then spun off to hook arms with the woman to his left. They rotated around the clearing, coming together once more on the far side as he caught Jenny's hands and danced her down the center of the clearing. The other dancers parted as they went, forming arches with their arms, and when they reached the end he raised Jenny's arms and stepped back to let the next couple pass between them. Then they were off again, twirling and spinning in time to the drum and the flute and the fiddle.

Finally, as the music wound down, he followed the other dancers and pulled her into his arms. His chest heaved as he drew deep breaths after the exertion, and he was acutely aware of her warmth and the softness of her body against his. He stared into her deep green eyes, watching them shimmer with exertion and excitement, and started to move his face towards hers. The he hesitated, and the moment was lost as the dancers began to applaud the band.

The fiddler stepped away to fill a mug, and the piper began to play. The music, though lively, was slower this time. Ion drew a deep breath. "Care for a second dance?"
 
Jenny hadn't had this much fun in a long time. She was plenty drunk but still light on her feet, a talent she had often attributed to her nationality. She couldn't stop grinning and by the time they made it to the other side of the clearing her cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. She spun and twirled lightly and her heart jumped when Ion found her again and caught her by the hands. His hands were calloused, like her own, but were a strange sort of comfort to her. It had been so long since she'd held an adult hand, not a child's looking for attention or support or guidance. Holding hands with Ion was nice.

Then the gypsy pulled her into his arms, both their chests heaving in their exertion. Jenny's grin slowly faded, though not because she was upset or no longer having a good time, and she couldn't help but stare back at him. His eyes were so much like her John's...but different. Less jaded, less wordly. She'd only kissed a boy or two before meeting her husband and she wondered what it was like, kissing someone else in their joyful, drunken haze. Ion seemed to move in closer...but then the moment was gone as others clapped. Jenny, too, needed a deep breath and bent her head, briefly resting her forehead on Ion's chest before looking up at him again. Her smile had come back.

"I'd love to," she agreed, genuinely eager for another dance. Their bodies were still pressed against each other, Jenny realized, and she took a step back and took the gypsy's hand again. "I haven't had this much fun in so long," she admitted. "And I think there'll be plenty of lasses looking at you."
 
"Let them look," Ion laughed, leading Jenny back into the clearing. "I'm having too much fun to worry about them, myself." One hand rested on her hip, the other moving up her back to light on her shoulder, as he took the lead. Although not slow, the tune was slower than the last dance, and the couples who danced it all held closer to one another as they circled and spun in time with the music. He led with gentle pressure, the hand on her hip pushing or pulling gently as he moved in rhythm with her, and his eyes sparkled with delight.

She was amazing, he thought as he watched the joy in her own eyes. Beautiful and graceful, and he suddenly hoped her husband was a fool. That he wasn't coming back. Not to spite her - the thought of seeing pain in those dancing green eyes was a knife in his heart - but out of a truly selfish desire to have her for himself. He could convince her to travel with him, her and her children. Or she could convince him to settle down, find a job for which his talents would suit him.

The applause of the audience broke him from his reverie, as they cheered the performance of the piper. Around him, the other couples kissed as the audience cheered again. Without even thinking he followed suit, finding her soft lips with his own.
 
This dance seemed to be more intimate than the ones they'd had before. Ion held her closer, following suit with the other couples in the clearing, and led with a gentle hand at her hip. Some men were demanding and forceful when they danced; good leaders, but careless of their follower. Ion wasn't like that. He was firm but gentle, turning her this way and that but with an implied condition that he wouldn't lead her where she didn't want to go. The way a man danced was usually indicative of the way he conducted his affairs in other parts of his life... Jenny blushed at that thought, and at the mental images that followed of how Ion might conduct his affairs. The sparkle in those dark eyes as he led her round made it hard not to imagine such things.

But Jenny had children to consider. And God. And John. She did love him with all the fire in her soul, but she'd been so lonely and in so much pain for so long it was hard to believe he still felt the same way for her. And how was that fair; leaving her to raise his children alone, pining after him while he gallivanted about the world with hardly a care for them? But Jenny had made a vow, and she wasn't one to break promises. If John didn't love her anymore...well...Aunt Viola had said he would die before Anne did, and she knew that Anne wouldn't live to see adulthood. At least Jenny knew that, if and when the worst should happen, she had an option.

No, I oughtn't think like that, Jenny thought forcefully. I shouldn't treat this or Ion or a gypsy's life as an option, not unless--

Her thoughts were interrupted and sent buzzing around her mind like so many disturbed flies as Ion leaned in and kissed her. Jenny had been caught so off-guard she couldn't even think to stop him or to push him away. But then the kiss broke, slowly, and she leaned in for another. He tasted of cider and stew and promises. Then she pulled away and looked up at Ion, chest heaving a little as she searched his face for some emotion, some reaction, though she didn't know what she expected to find.

"We ah...we probably shouldn't do that again," she suggested quietly. A sober Jenny would have pulled away and railed at him for kissing her...but a sober Jenny wouldn't have danced with him in the first place, not without her husband around.
 
The first kiss surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise her. He hadn't consciously planned it, or anything like. But she was gorgeous, and she'd felt so good as she'd moved against him, and it had just seemed the most natural thing in the world. She broke away, then leaned back in for another, and his arms tightened around her and her body seemed to tremble against his as her lips met his. And then she pulled back a little, arms still around him and chest heaving, staring into his eyes.

"We ah...we probably shouldn't do that again," she suggested quietly.

"You... you're right," he agreed, voice husky. God, she was beautiful. "It's, it's probably... probably not a good, good idea..." Even as he said it, his arms tightened and he drew her back against him. Her warmth against him made his skin tingle, sent shivers along his spine. "I probably shouldn't," he breathed, his face close to hers. And then he kissed her again, his lips gentle on hers. He deepened it a little, encouraging her mouth to open. His tongue slipped between her lips, soft and warm and hesitantly exploring her heat and her taste. One hand slid up her back, stroking the smooth skin at the nape of her neck.

Finally, he broke the kiss. "But," he smiled, "I want to do it again. And again, and again."
 
Ion was agreeing with her, and Jenny found she almost hadn't wanted him to. Almost. Her breath caught when he drew her against him again and goosebumps raised along her forearms. Her knees felt weak and her entire body trembled in excitement and fear and sadness and happiness all at once. The gypsy deepened their kiss and slid his tongue into her mouth and reflexively Jenny did the same. She felt loved and wanted again, she felt beautiful, for the first time in months she felt worthy of attention. Her fingers tangled in Ion's hair as they explored one another, and God how long it had been since she had felt...anything! She hadn't realized until she'd felt again that she had been numb for months, going through the motions, not an inhabitant of this world but merely a piece to help it keep working.

But then the kiss broke and so did its spell. Ion smiled, declaring that he wanted to kiss her again and again, and the truly awful part was that she wanted him to. Jenny slid her hands from his hair down to his chest and gently pushed him away, shaking her head. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and she blinked them away quickly as she stepped back. How could he possibly understand what she was feeling, why she was feeling it, why she'd done all that? Ten years ago she never would have dreamed of letting Ion get even close to kissing her...but unhappiness could lead a person to fall a very long way.

"Don't," she said softly, finally looking back up at him sorrowfully. "Please don't. The children might see, if they haven't already. And I have a husband. And John may not give a damn about us, but I'm still in love with him. Even if someday, somehow, something like this were a possibility, how could you trust a woman who's unfaithful to her vows? Unhappiness isn't an excuse for anything I've done tonight." Jenny started to turn away from him, unsure whether she should stay or go but entirely certain that that needed not to happen again...no matter how much she wanted it to. Her lips still tingled and still she struggled to push away the lascivious thoughts about him that she knew still might have a possibility of coming true. Regardless of how much time John had left on this earth, how could she ever look him in the face again if any of that happened?
 
"I..." It was right on the tip of Ion's tongue to try to persuade her, because her taste was still right on the tip of his tongue. But the look in her eyes, the mixture of desire and sorrow and shame as she turned away, held that thought. "I'm sorry."

God, but he still wanted her. Wanted to explore her, to feel her against him and around him. To see those beautiful green eyes looking at him with lust and desire as... Shaking his head, he forced a smile. "I mean, I'm not sorry. Because I wanted to kiss you, and wanted... well..." He laughed, just a little. "Sorry. That's not helping. And... I am sorry. Not for kissing you, but... well, for trying to persuade you to give something you weren't ready to give."

Blinking, he followed the words with a mind slightly fuddled by alcohol. "I... think I said that right. And if you wish to be true to your husband, than I'll say no more about it." He watched her expression for a moment. "Until the day - if it comes - that you decide it is a possibility." A wink and a grin, and then he looked around. "But, for now, it's getting late. And if we're not going to make a scandal, then I'll not see you haunted by one. Shall we find your children?"
 
Ion apologized. Jenny opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how exactly to phrase what she was feeling. She had been ready to give to him, and that was precisely the problem. In the past months she had struggled with her feelings, with her anger and her sorrow and her worry, but she had never realized exactly how very, very unhappy she had been until she'd had cause to be happy again. Jenny had of course heard of husbands and wives being unhappy in their marriages, but she'd always wondered how that was possible; had until today remained convinced that it could never happen to her, that she could never possibly be unhappy in her marriage to John. He was the love of her life, after all...and he'd abandoned them. He'd left them to scrounge for themselves in poverty, amongst scandal and a most unchristian wagging of tongues. And here...here was a charming, handsome, funny man who thought she was beautiful, who wanted her, who thought John a fool for leaving her, who she could have this very night if she so chose. And God knew what John was doing tonight. It wasn't fair.

"Yes," Jenny agreed at length. "We'll find the children. I told my Da I'd stop by to let him know I'm on my way home, but I think perhaps you'd best stay out of sight as he doesn't trust you. If you're walking us home, I mean," she added quickly, wanting Ion to feel no obligation to extra kindness when she'd just turned him down.

Brigid and Lucy had passed out near the fire with some of the other young ones. Jack was still running around with his stick and the little girl with the dark pigtails--Jenny smiled knowingly but said nothing--and Anne had found a few more friends to play with when she'd gotten tired, drawing in the dirt and making little dolls out of the tall grass. One by one Mrs. Sparrow gathered each of her nestlings to her and started home with Ion, if he would come. Once in town she tapped softly on her parents' door, but it was enough to bring Michael to answer. He'd looked around suspiciously before nodding and bidding her goodnight.

"Thank you for tonight," Jenny said softly when they came to the door of the Nest. "I'm sorry about...well, that, but I really did enjoy myself. It was nice to be able to have fun for once." She smiled a little. "You and your family will be welcome in our home any time. Goodnight, Ion." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently before finding the handle and nudging the door open for her sleepy children to trudge inside.
 
Ion helped Jenny round up her children and herd them in the direction of home, albeit a direction that took a detour through Dover proper as she visited the Black Anchor to assure her father that nothing untowards had happened. As she requested he lurked in the shadows while the two spoke, being careful to avoid bringing scandal on her. And to avoid having her bear of a father snap him in half - the man might be getting a little long in the tooth, but he still looked like he could bend an iron bar with his bare hands. And then they made their way up the moonlit trail to her small home on th eedge of town.

"Thank you for tonight," Jenny said softly when they came to the door of the Nest.

"Oh, no. Thank you for coming," Ion assured her.

She smiled a little at that. "I'm sorry about...well, that, but I really did enjoy myself. It was nice to be able to have fun for once."

"I'm still not sorry for it," he answered with a knowing wink, before his expression turned serious. "But... I'm sorry if I offended you. I certainly had no desire to do that. And... I hope we are still friends?"

Her smile grew a little wider. "You and your family will be welcome in our home any time. Goodnight, Ion." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently. Ion stood and watched as she opened her door and herded her children inside, then turned and set off back down the trail towards town. No, he wasn't sorry he'd kissed her, and he'd have liked to do more besides. But... well, she seemed worth the wait and the chase. And if her husband was the rogue and pirate she seemed to believe, he'd have plenty of opportunity for both.

Then he stopped, senses fully alert. Over there, a bush had rustled. Not a huge event in and of itself, not with the sea wind coming in off the channel. But... this one had moved against the wind. Heart suddenly pounding, he gripped the hilt of his knife. "Is someone there?"
 
Jack insisted he wasn't sleepy even as he yawned. The girls were each tucked away in their rooms, the twins together and Anne in the smallest bedroom, and were asleep in minutes. Jack continued to fight sleep, rubbing his eyes as she helped him into his night shift and protesting that he wouldn't go to bed.

"You're up far too late, young man," Jenny pointed out quietly. He didn't fight her very much as she helped him into bed.

"I'm almost ten Ma," he protested, "almost...grown..." An enormous yawn interrupted him and she chuckled.

"Yes, well not yet. Now close your eyes." She knew well that all too soon he would be a man. Ten years had flow by so quickly, and in half that Jack would be old enough for an apprenticeship; ready to learn a trade, take over a business as a master craftsman, find a wife, raise a family...and God knew how long John would be around to see any of that.

"Maaaaaa....!" Jack's eyes were closed as he rolled onto his side and snuggled his face into his pillow. Then, as though he'd read her mind, "When's Dad gonna be home?"

Jenny sighed. "I dunno baby," she admitted, "soon maybe. His ship's been lost, but we know he'll always come back to us. Right? Nothing stops Captain John Sparrow."

"Nothin'," Jack agreed sleepily before dropping off to sleep. Jenny sighed and leaned over to kiss his forehead and pull the covers up over his shoulder before blowing out the candle.

In her own room Jenny took a deep breath and leaned against the door, closing her eyes. The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions and even now she recognized that something in her life had changed forever today; for better or for worse remained to be seen. When she opened her eyes she caught herself in the mirror across from the door. Stepping over she slowly untied her bodice, pulling it off and slipping her blouse down over her shoulders. In her imagination strong, masculine hands slid the cloth over her warm skin...Ion's hands. She wondered what his hands must feel like on her skin. His lips had been soft and warm, so what must they feel like not just on her lips but on her breast? Her stomach? Her thighs? Her dress slipped over her hips and she wondered briefly whether he would mind the stretch marks over her hips and tummy from where she'd borne another man's children. Her husband's children. John...

Oh, those were unholy thoughts indeed! Jenny tried not to think about it as she crossed to her bed, but as she laid naked over the quilt she couldn't help but imagine it. Ion's lips roaming over her breasts, capturing her nipples, traipsing down her arms to her fingertips and back up, down her stomach where John's lips might pick up and trace lines of kisses long her thighs to her warm, wet center. How the two of them might make her moan, make her writhe beneath their hands. Oh God how sinful! ...But what delicious ecstasy! Jenny's mouth dropped open slightly as her own fingers roamed her body as she imagined theirs might. She would have to go to confession in the morning...but tonight...oh tonight she could have her imagination and the memory of cider and promises.
 
Ben emerged from the shadows, eying Ion with a mixture of anger and suspicion. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Ion released his grip on the knife, but didn't relax. It was the hostile man from the tavern earlier, after all. And they were alone in the outskirts of town in the middle of the night. "I don't see how it's any of your business, but I was escorting Miss Sparrow home."

Ben spat in disgust. "A likely story." He glanced towards the cottage. "What were you doing with her?"

Rolling his eyes, Ion spoke with exaggerated patience. "I was escorting her and her children home," he repeated.

"Before that," Ben snapped, voice harsh.

Now Ion looked confused. "Before... that? I don't see what..."

"You know damn well what I mean," Ben barked. "How much did she charge?"

Ion's blood turned to ice in his veins, and he could feel his pulse thundering in his head. "How... much?" he repeated, voice cold.

Ben spat again. "You know damn well what I mean," he snarled. "How much did..."

Ion strode past him. "It's late," he said, "and you're clearly drunk. I'm not going to stand here and listen to this, this filth."

"Ooo," Ben taunted. "You'll rent her, but you won't listen to me call you out on it? How much does she charge to blow you? Hey? Tell me that?"

Ion stiffened, fists clenched. For a moment, just a moment, he considered turning on the man. But, no. He was an itinerant. A gypsy. The local authorities would probably hang him for beating the man like he deserved. So he gritted his teeth, and kept walking.
 
Time passed. It always does. The children grew more every day and Jenny found herself confessing her sins more often. She felt silent judgement from Father Shovel but he said nothing about it and so did she. Tongues wagged, of course; they always had, but now they were accusations of infidelity which if she were honest with herself weren't wholly unfounded this time. Naturally nothing had happened, nothing that counted anyway, but Ion would hang around and occasionally steal kisses when they were alone or the children were asleep. Mrs. Sparrow always put a stop to it, of course, after the first one or two but she never quite found reasons not to be alone with him. She had welcomed him and his family into their home, after all, and a poor hostess she would be indeed if she reneged on that. The nights were growing warm so it wasn't unreasonable to keep the door open both for a breeze and to protect her reputation from further slander.

Ion's family eventually moved on but he remained at an inn in town, performing for his rent and singing for his supper. It was for her protection, he'd said, because Ben Halliwell couldn't be trusted. A scoundrel he'd called him, wanting nothing but ill and Jenny had of course laughed that off. He was as good as a brother-in-law, after all! And why would family mean to do her harm? Still, Ion helped her with the kids and occasionally earned enough from his street performances to share with them once he'd taken care of his own needs. It was nice to have help again, and occasionally a few shillings extra for what they just couldn't make themselves. Jenny was even able to save up for a new pair of shoes for Jack, him having grown out of his six months ago and having to go barefoot or suffer painfully cramped feet. And late at night after the children had been given a slightly less meager supper than usual and sung to sleep Mrs. Sparrow found she actually had a friend to talk to again. Sometimes a silence would grow awkward between them, when Ion's affections seemed to loom to the forefront of both of their minds simultaneously, but usually Jenny was simply grateful for the unexpected help. Truly God did provide.

And then God blew the winds toward Dover. It had been two months since Ion and his family had rolled into town when a ship with black sails docked in the harbor. July already. John would be thirty years old this month, though it hadn't seemed but a week since he'd taken that detour on his way back to the apothecary after running his master's errands. How much time did he have left? How much time did they have left as a family? What about Anne? These thoughts weighed heavy on Jenny's mind as she went about her business as usual, putting on a smile for her customers though her heart had long left her work.
 
It had taken longer than he'd wanted to make Dover, but that couldn't be helped. The Black Pearl was a fine ship, the finest he could have hoped for. But even she was at the mercy of the winds. And besides, they'd twice come across Company ships. They'd born down on both, taking their cargo and - at his orders - leaving the crew alive. He might have turned pirate, but that didn't mean he'd developed a taste for wanton slaughter. Also, as he explained to the crew, a reputation for mercy meant that more ships would surrender without a fight. Which meant more wealth and less risk.

But now Captain Jack Sparrow stood in the stern castle of the Pearl, steering her in towards the docks. He'd shed as much of his pirate look as he could, although traces of kohl still stained the pits of his eyes and his clothing was somewhat more flamboyant than the staid people of Dover would have chosen on their own. They only clothing they'd taken, after all, had been silks and finery intended for the wealthy of Jamaica and Virginia. So he wore knee-breeches and stockings, and a fine coat, and the battered hat he'd been given by his family, and slung over it hung his rapier and dagger. The crew likewise had attempted to look like ordinary sailors.

He'd stressed the importance of this. Dover, as he knew from living there, wouldn't turn away pirates as long as they made a show of pretending to be respectable seamen and minded their manners in town. And as long as they had booty to sell, something that weighted the holds of the Pearl.

Soon the ship was tied up to dock, and Jack dickered with the dockmaster. "It's a pound a day to dock a ship that large," that worthy was saying. "And I shall need to know your name and your home port."

Swaying just a little and grinning, Jack pressed a dozen pieces of Spanish gold into the man's hand. "It's Captain Ja-John Sparrow," he said, closing the man's fingers over the gold. "And what say we make it three pounds a day, and you don't ask too many questions, hm?"

The man examined the gold, then tucked it away. "As you say, Captain Sparrow. I'll just put you down for Jamaica then, shall I?"

"Good lad," Jack agreed, tucking one more piece of gold into his vest pocket. "Very smart, very sharp. You'll go far. Now!" He pointed back towards the ship. "My first mate there will see to unloading the cargo, and we'll need a warehouse. And can you arrange an introduction to an appraiser and a few wholesalers? I'll want them honest but..." another piece of gold, "not too honest."

"I'll see to it, Captain Sparrow."

"Good lad, good lad," Jack agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll be for the pubs, then, and I'll be back in the morning." With that he swayed off, moving with the gait of a man who was either too drunk or too long at sea to be sure of his footing.


It was strange, being back in Dover. Strange to be walking these streets again, after what seemed like a lifetime away. Had it really only been six months? Or... was it eight? Damn, he was losing track. But even stranger was the way people reacted to him. They stepped aside, making way for him. Nobody he passed recognized him as Johnathan Sparrow, apprentice apothecary. Or John Sparrow, itinerant herbalist and oddjobsman. All they saw was the half tame, half wild Captain Jack, a swaggering figure with steel on his hip and a wild look in his eyes.

Who was he, now? Captain Jack had been a mask, but more and more it seemed as if it were the real him and John merely a dream. But then he saw it.

The Black Anchor.

Home.

Quickening his step, he strode forward and reached for the door. As he did, a dark-haired young - well, youngish - man opened it. They blinked at each other, and Jack felt like he saw a certain familiarity in the man's face. Both stepped to one side, than the other, managing to obstruct each other with every motion. Finally, Jack stepped to one side and doffed his hat with a flourish. "Allow me, sir," he said, wobbling and looking like he might fall. "Please, exit."

"Thank you," the other man said, stepping through the door way and heading up the street. Before he could travel more than a dozen paces, though, Jack called after him.

"One moment, sir. You look familiar to me. May I ask your name?"

"Ion," the other man said, half turning. "Ion Vrabie. And you?"

"Ah..." Who was he. "John. Captain Jonathan Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl. Have we met?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Ion responded. "And yet, I believe I know you. You should go inside - your wife has told me much about you." With that, he turned and left.

Jack watched him go. The, mulling over the other man's words, he shrugged and entered the pub.
 
Jenny smiled and pulled away from the drunkard who had been telling her how pretty she was, how he could show her so much better a time than that gypsy scum always hanging about her like a bad smell. She had often had to defend her friendship to Ion both to drunk men in the pub who would do him harm and to her own family. But words, as he'd pointed out, hurt no one in the long run really and so she'd learned not to argue with a man in his cups about this particular point. Not unless he intended to get violent, and this was just a lonely old sailor bitter about his lot in life. Really it was rare that one such as him waited until Ion was actually out of the tavern before maligning him. She glanced up to watch Ion go and saw him at an impasse with someone in the doorway. She put up her tray and grabbed a rag to start wiping out cups when she looked up again.

Her heart stopped. She wanted to run to her husband, to cry and throw herself into his arms, to praise God for bringing him home safely. Jenny felt like falling to her knees and weeping for joy...but there was more than just joy in this reunion. There was anger and resentment, sadness and loneliness, and the eternal question of why. This moment was a topic much discussed in quiet moments with Ion, usually under the influence of some spirit or another, and she'd made up her mind months ago. She'd forgive John eventually, and would be tender to him before even that, but this first encounter would make all the difference in the world; it would set the expectations for the rest of their marriage, and Jenny refused to let him think that he could get away with disappearing for months on end with no consequences. She couldn't let her emotions run wild just yet. They still had a lot of talking to do.

"Oh, so you've decided to show up then have ya?" Jenny didn't smile when her husband approached--she wouldn't go to him--and that slight pronouncement of a gentle brogue was enough to indicate just how upset she was. For what seemed to her to be a long while she didn't even look at him, but instead addressed the cup in her hand. "Decided to come be a husband, mayhap e'en help raise yer four children? Your sick, dying daughter? Your only son? The twins who barely know their father 't'all? Mayhap help provide fer the wiman who's sworn her life and immortal soul t'ya?" Finally she looked up at John. "Or are ya just makin' port 'fore sailin' off ta some other God-forsaken part o' the ocean? Because if that's the case then I'd rather the children not see ya and get their hopes up that their father might actually care. I can't watch that heartbreak again, John."

John's appearance made her want to cry. Obviously he'd made an effort not to look like the pirate he was, but she wasn't certain whether that made things better or worse. The finery he'd donned made it evident that he'd been successful in his new chosen profession, and made her feet hurt all the more. Since news of John's turn to piracy had spread, the Anchor had still done business but there'd been a marked downtick in patronage which meant Michael couldn't pay her as much. Her boots had long ago worn down and she had kept them until the holes in the soles had covered almost more area than the leather itself. Sean had been gracious enough to give her a pair of old work boots, from before he'd become barrister, but even when she stuffed rags in the toes to make them fit they were hard on her feet and made her knees and hips hurt. Still it was better than working in her bare feet and her many-times-darned stockings. The children were young enough yet that bare feet were still acceptable, and so with Ion's help she had saved up enough for a new pair of shoes for Jack and now had to save for new shoes for Anne. The twins would have to wait a while yet, as two pairs at once would be more expensive. That John had showed up in silks and finery while his family scrounged for basic necessity as shoes and were clothed in tattered old clothing which on Jenny had clearly been patched many times and on the children were clearly too small wounded her soul. A point she had always made to her children was that they "may be poor, but at least we're clean," and now in front of John she felt like perhaps their cleanliness hadn't mattered as much as she'd so desperately hoped.

"Those fancy clothes supposed to impress me?" Jenny demanded, not pausing to allow John protest or to get a word in. If he did she might break down and cry, and right now that just couldn't happen. "Feel like a big man in silk and velvet while a friend had to help pay for your son's new shoes? I mean, what kind of a man--?" She shook her head. "No, never mind. A pirate. That's the sort of man who could ever possibly think something like this would ever be acceptable! A pirate is the only sort of man who could abandon his family and a good, respectable job just coz there's more money in stealing it. I did not marry a pirate, Johnathan Sparrow! I married..." She met his eyes, freckles pronounced in her red face, eyes shining with tears. "I don't know who I married," she said quietly, "but you're not him." With a sniff she turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen.

Peter looked up from his stove to see his sister crouched near the door, clutching the pewter mug in her hand and staring at it intently. "Jenny?" he asked carefully, standing. "Jenny what's wrong?" She looked up at him and opened her mouth several times to try and speak, but only tears came. His heart fell. "John's back, isn't he?" She nodded wordlessly and Peter, stout Peter, solid Peter, crossed the kitchen to pull his sister into a great bear hug. If John meant to stay then they would have to have a serious talk, man-to-man, Peter and his brother and father and John. If he didn't mean to stay...well, after all the heartache his big sister had been through Peter Dolan had no trouble turning John out on his ear. Like Michael he was stout, solidly built, but his height or lack thereof made him somewhat stockier and more densely formed; string-bean John would be easy to toss out.
 
He hadn't quite known what to expect at his return, but he hadn't anticipated this. Not a torrent of bitterness and vitriol. Jack stood and stared at Jenny, occasionally trying to get a word in edgewise as she raged at him. And then she turned on her heel, storming off with a limping gait. After a moment, mind reeling, he moved to follow her.

"Now where is it you think you're going?" Michael demanded, emerging from behind the bar to block his path.

Jack stopped, swayed a little, and raised a hand. "I think," he declared, "that I'm following my wife."

"Your wife?" Michael grunted, glaring at him. "You abandon her for more'n half a year to fly the black flag, and yet you think you deserve to call her that?"

"Dad, listen..."

"You don't call me 'dad'," Michael snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "You haven't the right, John Sparrow." He glared at his son-in-law. "Or is it Jack, now?"

Jack got right up in his face then, poking him in the chest. "Michael, then. D'you think I've ever been scared of you?"

"Yes," came the immediate response.

Jack blinked at that for a second. "Right, well... has that ever in my life stopped me from seeing my Jenny?"

Michael glared at him. "...no."

Jack grinned impishly at that. "Right, then you'll be standing aside and letting me go and make my explanations to her now, and I'm sure she'll be glad to tell you whether you and Sean and Peter should whip me out like a dog."

"Or what?"

"Or, Michael, you'll make me do something I'll regret later."

Michael eyed the Spanish rapier at Jack's side. "Like what?" he demanded, voice cold.

"Like getting me head caved in tryin' to force yiu to move."

Michael stared at him a moment longer. Then he glanced at the kitchen door, and finally stepped aside. Jack strolled past, still swaying, and entered the kitchen. There was Jenny, cradled in the arms of the walking oak tree she called her brother Peter. Sean and Jenny had taken after their mother, slim and smallish. But Peter was his massive father writ large, and he was glaring murder at the pirate captain.

Jack swallowed, hard. If Peter came for him, the only way he'd survive the fight would be to kill the man. And Jenny'd never forgive him that.

Carefully, Jack removed his coat and laid it aside. The shirt beneath was white cotton, loose-fitting with bloused sleeves. "Jenny, love," he said softly. "You've every right to be mad - no, furious - at me. And I'd have written, if I could have. And I can only hope you'll forgive me, someday. And yes, I turned pirate. Because it was finer, nobler than what the Company wanted of me."

He watched for a moment. She didn't look at him. But at least Peter wasn't trying to break him in half. "Or didn't they tell you that the Wench was a slaver? That they wanted me to transport men ti be sold in Jamaica, to be wirked like animals until they died? And that I mutinied because I'd rather be a pirate than a slaver, and a pirate because mutiny is piracy?"

Still, she wouldn't look at him. He sighed and turned to leave. "And you didn't marry a pirate, love. And I love you, and I won't hold you to oaths you made to a better man. But..." He paused and looked back once, heart breaking. "I thought Jenny Sparrow, wife of a pirate... our children, children of a pirate... would be better than a husband and father who was a slaver."

He opened the door, hand shaking. "Good... good bye, Jenny. I'll trouble you no more." His last words came out a choked whisper. "I love you." And then the kitchen door closed as he headed blindly for the tavern door.
 
Jenny heard the door open but didn't look up. Her shoulders shook with the wracking sobs that had taken over while Peter all but held her up. The great bear of a man glared at him over Jenny's head but said nothing when he spoke. His sister seemed to wince at her name but didn't turn while he explained himself. She sniffled and opened her mouth a few times to speak, but words wouldn't come. Her voice was caught in her throat and there was nothing she could do to force it out. There were some excuses she just couldn't accept--that he couldn't have written, couldn't have sent money--but all in all she understood why he had turned pirate. She wasn't okay with it, she didn't accept it as a viable career option, but she understood. Still she trembled in Peter's arms, trying to find something, anything to say, legs shaking too violently for her to be able to turn around or support herself.

Then John started talking about their vows, her vows. That he wouldn't hold her to them. She moaned in agony and shook her head but still the words wouldn't come, she couldn't force her voice into her mouth. And then John promised not to bother her anymore and he said his goodbyes. Jenny cried out in anguish and slipped from Peter's arms, hitting the floor hard on her knees and covering her face. In that moment she'd have rather died, struck down on the spot by God himself, than have to endure the agony he'd just placed upon her heart. Peter knelt next to her, glancing over at the door swinging shut, unsure what to do.

"JOHN!" Jenny's voice finally forced itself out in a pained wail before sobs continued to wrack her body and tie her tongue.

This was all her brother needed to know. Leaving her on the kitchen floor, Peter stood up and followed. He'd liked John, but had decided once they'd learned of the whole mess he'd gotten himself into that he was no good for Jenny. Still, if his sister wasn't willing to let him go, to petition the Pope to excommunicate him or annul their marriage, he would go after him. If John Sparrow was really his sister's happiness then he would chase that happiness down for her and drag it back to her if it meant going to the world's end to find him. Peter charged like a rampaging bull, knocking over tables and chairs in his pursuit of his wastrel brother-in-law. In the open doorway he caught Jack by the collar and yanked him back into the pub with one hand, slamming him down onto the table and pinning him by the throat.

"John Sparrow you are not abandoning my sister or her children," he growled, jaw set. Peter had always been aware of his size and had always taken great care to keep himself a gentle man...but Mary had always warned her children to beware the wrath of a gentle man, and he was certainly most wrathful. "You're going back in there and you're going to beg for her forgiveness and mercy and you're going to pray she takes you back as you are."

Without another word Peter gripped his shirt again and with seemingly no effort at all lifted Jack off of his feet. He half-dragged, half-carried the pirate back to the kitchen. Jenny jumped as the door burst open again and looked up from her place on the floor and her brother tossed Jack into the room bodily as easily as he might toss away a bit of garbage. There was a stern look of Michael in his face as he glared down at Jack before nodding and taking up a post outside the kitchen door. Jenny's chin trembled as she looked from the door to her husband.

"You could've written," she croaked, sniffling. "You still have hands, your fingers still work perfectly. Ships come in and out of the islands all the time and you're the one who taught me how to write. You could've written, you could've sent money! It's lucky I work for my Da or we'd be starving or in the poorhouse or God knows where by now." Jenny's chin trembled as she looked over at him. "Where were you, John? We...I..." She gulped and shook her head. "We've needed you. I've needed you. We've felt abandoned for so long...not a word, not a brass farthing." She sobbed and drew a hand over her face. "Just...just stay with us John. You're home now and the Crown isn't looking for you here anymore so just come home. Please."
 
Jack sprawled on the floor of the kitchen, feeling slightly disoriented. He'd known Peter was strong, but to be picked up and carried like a naughty child? And then deposited before his wife? It was terrifying.

But not as terrifying - or as heartbreaking - as the look in Jenny's eyes or the hurt and sorrow in her voice. "Where was I?" he repeated softly, unable to meet her gaze. "I..."

How to explain? Months of self-loathing. Of misery and home-sickness. Of crawling into a rum bottle so he didn't have to think. Didn't have to consider the family he believed he could never see again. Of the letters he'd started, only to crumple them and throw them away.

"I was... ashamed," he whispered. "I hated what I'd become. A man like my father."

But, was that true? He'd lived the freedom of the sea. Loved answering to no law but his conscience. He was good at piracy, better than he'd ever been at anything. "And... and I... I thought you'd hate me. Hate what I was. And I hid."

He felt hope thrill through him at her last words, but that hope quickly died. "I can't stay, Jenny. It's death by hanging, if the Company or the Crown finds me. And there's no general pardon, not right now. But..."

His smile was weak but genuine, and he ever so hesitantly placed his hand on hers. "But, with one last voyage, I can buy a pardon." He held up a hand. "No piracy, either. I have a map, one that shows where the Spaniard Cortez hid a fortune in Aztec gold. I have to split it with my crew, but..."

Hope surged a little more. "Six more months, Jenny. That's all. Six months."
 
You should be ashamed! You weren't a man like your father until you refused to come home, left your wife and children in poverty and shame. I could never hate you my love, not really...but God knows I've been ashamed of what you've done. This and more Jenny wanted to say to him, but she remained quiet. She knew it wouldn't be constructive in any way and would only make him feel worse. God knew how badly Jenny wanted John to feel worse than he already did, to pour out all of their hardships on him so he might suffer as she had. But love wasn't spiteful or vengeful, love didn't wound--not intentionally anyway--or heap troubles upon a lover's back. She opened and closed her mouths several times, but couldn't summon anything to say. Instead she sobbed and drew a hand over her face.

"Just...just stay with us John. You're home now and the Crown isn't looking for you here anymore so just come home. Please."

It was all she could ask of him, all he could really give her at the moment. Their best hope to repair their marriage, their family, was for John to come home and for them both to just forget about the past eight months. Ion could go back to his family, or rejoin them when they came back to Dover next spring as they'd promised, Ben could relax his brotherly vigil over her family, John could find work as an oddjobsman or maybe a fisher and be home for his supper every night. It wasn't the job he'd had before, and they'd never be rich...but that wasn't what Jenny wanted. She had never expected to be wealthy or famous or anything out of the ordinary; all she had wanted from John Sparrow was a simple, comfortable life with their children, their friends and family. She'd had that for a while, but then the sea...the stupid bloody sea had taken her husband. And though she knew better, in her heart of hearts she blamed Christopher Halliwell for all of it.

And she knew that he wasn't to blame for their situation now as her husband refused to come home. Her heart fell. One last voyage, one more adventure, it was always one more. "No, John," she answered firmly. "No more voyages. Sean is the best barrister in Dover. We'll hide you until he can get you out of this mess and you'll be a free man both by law and by your own conscience. No court would convict a man for following his morals." She took his hands in hers and looked at him earnestly, tears in her eyes again. "Anne's been getting worse, love. She could be dead in six months. Do you really want our baby to die fatherless? Is that something you would be able to live with missing?"
 
"No, Jenny," Jack whispered, clutching her hand like a lifeline. "I don't want her to die fatherless. I don't want her to die at all. And that's..." He let his voice trail away. What could he say? That he'd heard rumors that Cortez' gold could grant immortality. That it could let his daughter live?

Jenny would never accept that answer.

He sighed "If I thought Sean could get me off, I'd leap at the chance. But pirating is a hanging offense, Jenny, and there's too many witnesses ". A single bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Hector warned me there'd be consequences for leaving survivors. I just never saw this as one of them..." Catching Jenny's expression, he hurried to add on to that. "Not that it would have changed things! I'm a pirate now, love, but I'm no murderer!"

Still, it was tempting. The sea was in his blood, but Jenny was his blood. His blood and his life and his soul. "But, well, maybe I'm just scared. The Pearl will be here a fortnight, so let's talk to Sean. If he thinks there's a chance, then I'll stay and fight "

Jack hesitated and then pulled her into his arms. "You're my heart's desire, Jennifer Sparrow. You and our children. You're my world, and my reason for living."
 
Jenny looked shocked and appalled when John mentioned killing people, but claimed that he was no murderer. Even if that was a lie she chose to believe him; not believing would have damaged their already fragile state, possibly beyond repair. He suggested talking to Sean before making any decisions and she sighed. It was the only way to get him to stay at least temporarily, and maybe that would become permanent if he could remember what it was like to be with his family every day.

"Fine," she finally said, passing a hand over her eyes. "But if you're only to be here a fortnight, I don't know how good it might be for the children to see you. I mean, they deserve to see you and I want them to...but it would break their hearts if you came home only to leave again so soon." Jenny leaned against her husband. He smelled different than he always had before. If they were his world, why was he exiling himself from them?

~*~

"It'd never work." Sean pulled a book from the shelf in his office, tucking it under his arm and rubbing his knuckles as he crossed to the desk and sat with it. The first thing he'd done when John walked in was deck him in the nose. While not as strong as Peter he had always been much more hot-tempered, and had already heard from his brother what the pirate had tried to do. He shared his little brother's opinion of Jack Sparrow, but similarly was willing to help if it would make his sister happy. He thumbed through the volume before finding what he was looking for.

Jenny didn't often visit her older brother at work, or at home really, but when she did she was always impressed. Sean had always taken care not to invite his family to his work or his home, but to instead visit them at theirs. He was painfully aware of the gap in their respective incomes and educations and didn't wish to appear to be flaunting it or to make them feel badly. He'd been blessed as the eldest child, the eldest son, and to have been apprenticed to a kindly solicitor who had paid no mind to his station and he recognized that. Even now he avoided watching Jenny as she looked around at all of the books and several tokens of appreciation from grateful, wealthy clients; he didn't like watching her standing in awe of the mundanities of his daily life while she struggled in poverty. She wouldn't take his money, claiming she hadn't earned it herself and it would be dishonest, and he'd nearly had to force her to take his old boots when he'd learned she was walking about and working in her stockings. Occasionally he would leave Elizabeth's hand-me-downs at her doorstep while she was at work so she wouldn't have a chance to say no, or clothes his daughter Diane had outgrown, but that was all he could give that she would take. Little Michael was younger and slighter than her Jack, and Diane was only older than the twins by a year so they would often outgrow her old clothes as quickly as she had. Jenny was too pious and too proud to take his charity and to say that Sean Dolan resented John Sparrow for his treatment of his family would be an understatement, but at least that gypsy fellow had been helping her out recently.

"Here. 'The penalty for piracy is death, excepting the donation of funds to be no less than fifty thousand British pounds--"

"Fifty thousand?!"

"--sterling to the offices of Her Majesty Queen Anne'...et cetera et cetera...blah blah...Ah! 'Any man accused of piracy may appoint himself a solicitor or barrister for his own defense. However as of publication of this volume (year of our Lord seventeen hundred) there has been no case of acquittal of piracy in which the defendant was not pressganged into service.' Which, considering you're captain and lead a mutiny, I'm assuming you weren't." Sean looked up, again avoiding his sister for the shock and dismay, and turned a steely glare to John. "You said once that you would rather die before you shamed my sister," he pointed out. "If you're a man of your word, Johnathan Sparrow, you should gladly swing and relieve her of the burden of being your wife." He snapped the book shut and rose to replace it on the shelf.

"Sean!"

"Jennifer," he replied calmly, sliding the book back into place.

"Shame on you! He's your brother!"

"In-law," he pointed out, turning around and finally looking at her. "And given his behavior, I'm of the opinion that you should be free to marry someone who will not only give you children but actually help you care for them." Sean hated the look on Jenny's face. She was visibly torn between defending the love of her life and agreeing with him, for practical reasons if nothing else. "That Vrabie fellow's been more a father to your children and equal partner to you in the past few months than John here has," he motioned to his brother-in-law, "and would only that we were Protestant I'd encourage it personally. As it is the only way to free you of this weight around your neck is for John to be true to his word and die before he shames you further. Peter feels the same, he's just not blunt enough to say so."

"You mean crass and heartless!" Jenny had turned quite red, angry tears brimming in her eyes. "He is my husband and the father of my children and I love him. I've pledged my soul to him, and I would again! It's one thing to disapprove, but it's quite another to talk about sacrilege! How dare you, Sean!"

"I dare because someone needed to say it but nobody else will," he argued, leaning his hands on his desk and gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white. "I'll help you, I'll defend him to the death and I'll do my damnedest to get him out of this, but we all know it'll end in a hanging. Open your eyes, Jennifer! Maybe he was good for you once, but not any longer. Love for an absent man doesn't put food in your children's mouths or clothes on their backs. Don't you realize this is exactly how his mother lived? Waiting every day for a man who would never return to his family?"

Jenny opened and closed her mouth a few times in impotent rage before turning on her heel and storming out, the bell above the door clanging discordantly behind her. Sean's nostrils flared and he turned his angry glare to Jack.

"She may never speak to me again, but at least she knows what everyone else has been saying behind her back," he said in a low voice. "And she may hate me right now, but at least I'll be there to clean up Captain Jack Sparrow's mess the next time it leaves her on her arse in the gutter."
 
Jack rubbed his nose - it was sore, but nowhere near broken, and watched Jenny storm out of Sean's office. There was no real expression on his face, just the meaningless grin he habitually wore these days. Sean shifted, and Jack lazily turned his head to look at his brother in law. "She may never speak to me again, but at least she knows what everyone else has been saying behind her back," the solicitor growled. "And she may hate me right now, but at least I'll be there to clean up Captain Jack Sparrow's mess the next time it leaves her on her arse in the gutter."

Jack eyed him for a moment, turning his body to face the same direction as his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he stared at Sean with his dark eyes. "You got one thing right, mate," he finally said. "I am Captain Jack Sparrow." He rose, resting his left hand on the hilt of the Spanish rapier at his side. Sean, despite himself, cast a nervous glance at the weapon. "Most o' Dover still sees me as John Sparrow, Sean. But not you. You're clever, you are. Got a good eye on you, you do."

He swayed over to Sean's sidebar, and poured himself a drink unbidden. Swaying back, he perched himself on the edge of Sean's desk and swallowed the whiskey down. "See," he gestured with the glass, "I am a pirate. Led a mutiny, just like you say. Cos I chose being a pirate over being a slaver, Sean. I chose not to make a living off of human suffering and misery."

"What," Sean demanded coldly, "are you insinuating?"

Jack stared at him, blinking in surprise. "Why I'm insinuating nothing, Sean Dolan. Can't help what you might be inferring, mind. But I insinuate nothing." He tried to take another drink, and peered into the empty tumbler in surprise. "See, I'm a pirate. I lie, I cheat, and... well, you know the drill. I'm dishonest." He grinned. "But that makes me trustworthy. You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, the ones that wear their honesty and their morality on their sleeves. Because they'll hang you, Sean. All because they're honest men."

Sean watched him as he strolled back over to the sidebar and refilled his glass. "All Dover benefits from my current profession, Sean. Goods from piracy get sold at a fraction of the cost in the shops. Gold from piracy gets spent on rigging and sails and supplies." He glanced over his shoulder. "And alcohol," he added, toasting his brother in law. "But the good, honest folk of the town sleep soundly, because they're decent folk and they didn't commit piracy."

He drank down the whiskey, and poured another glass. "Now I'll admit that, this last year, I haven't done right by your sister. And that's why I came here, Sean. Because I want to. Not because I'm an honest man, but because I'll move heaven and earth for my wife and my children. I've been places and done things I never dreamed were real, trying to help them. And Jenny wants me to come home, and I want to do that for her." He turned, leaning against the sideboard, and examined the whiskey. "So that's why I'm here, taking your abuse. For her. Because she has faith in you, and because she - for some reason - believes in me, and because I will do anything for her."

Jack drank the whiskey, and smacked the glass down on the sidebar. "Hate me all you want. But you've got a fortnight. And if you can work some magic in those fourteen days, then Captain Jack Sparrow is a dead man, and the prodigal John Sparrow will come home to stay. But if you can't..."

A shrug, and then he strode towards the door. "If you can't, then Captain Jack Sparrow has one final voyage. Because fifty thousand pounds sterling will secure my release from the gibbet, Sean Dolan. And I know where to find it." He stood in the doorway, looking back at his brother-in-law. "Fourteen days. Find a miracle. For your sister's sake."

He closed the door behind him.
 
Christ but it was tempting to fail him! How did the man sleep at night, abandoning his loyal, loving wife and children? It was so terribly tempting for Sean to put up a show of defending Jack then letting him swing. The hatred burning in his heart wanted him to. He wanted to free his sister from a broken marriage to a broken, godless man. At this point he'd rather see her married to the gypsy, who was at least honest and worked for his living; certainly the mutual attraction hadn't escaped his wife's or his mother's notice, and between the two and Sarah he often heard all of their gossip and speculation over it. If Jack were dead, gone for good with no hope of coming back, Jenny would be free of the lout and free to find a man who would actually support her and her children in their time of need both emotionally and financially. But if it were his fault the bloody pirate died, she'd never ever forgive him. With a sigh Sean poured himself a drink at the sidebar, downed it in one gulp, ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and set to work forming John's defense.

Outside Jenny was down the street before she realized she'd left her husband behind. Turning she waited for him, angry tears still unshed but sniffling. She shook her head and hugged John tightly, just grateful for his presence.

"I'm sorry," came her muffled voice. "I dunno what came over him. He's never said any of that before, I didn't even know he'd had a change of heart about you. I thought he'd be glad to see you home safe as I was." Jenny lifted her face out of his chest, hair mussed and face blotchy as she looked up at him. "Come home with me, John Sparrow. Let's pretend, even if it's only for a little while, that you're home to stay for good."
 
Jack - John? - held his wife to his heart, striking her hair and shoulders as she wept and as she tried to explain away her brother's words. "It's all right, Jenny," he said. "I understand what he's saying, better than he does. After all, I grew up with the sort of father he sees me becoming."

The thought prompted a sigh of disgust. "After spending so long trying not to be him." Then he forced a smile. "But I!d love to go home. It'll be... nice, I think, to be John Sparrow again. And maybe Sean can overcome his distaste of me long to work a miracle. It'll be nice to stay John Sparrow."

Even as he said it, the words rang hollow in his ears. Not because he wanted to leave his family again - far from it. But because he'd come to like being the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow. Come to enjoy the freedom of the high seas, and the brotherhood of the Black Pearl. And he knew it was a mad thought,but the image of his Jenny, with copper curls tucked into a bandanna and sword on her hip...

He sighed. And where would the children fit into this life?

So he held his tongue, and Jenny's hand, and strolled the streets towards the edge of Dover. People still tried to stare curiously while trying not to stare. Now the expressions appeared more quizzical, though. As if trying to place him, and wondering why he was walking one of the Anchor's barmaids home.

"The children," he asked. "What have they heard?"
 
"You are John Sparrow," Jenny pointed out. "You've always been John Sparrow, and you always will be. John Sparrow is my husband, and a father who loves his children very much." But that seemed to jog John's memory and she shook her head at his question. "Not much. I've been telling them that your ship was lost again and Jack seems to be the only one suspicious that it's not true. Of course he and Anne have heard from the other children that their father is a pirate and a mutineer but of course I've told them that's not true. I think that's one lie God can forgive me for. I just...don't know if they'll be able to fathom it, John. I'm not sure they'll understand why you did it or how it's better than having worked for the company, especially after all we told them about how this job could fix so many problems, pay off Anne's medical expenses. I'd have to teach them about slavery to teach them why being a pirate might be better."

It was difficult and after much talking Jenny decided to share with young Jack what had happened, with an oath not to tell his younger sisters. He was nine and a half, after all; he would understand. And he did...but then Sean failed to find a way to pardon a pirate based on his morals. Two weeks, two wonderful weeks with her husband at home with the children while she worked and in her bed at night, and then he was gone. Ion had wisely made himself scarce while John was home, but found himself back in the Anchor with a glum-looking Jenny with tear tracks on her face. Once again they were without a provider, and once again Ion and Ben had started keeping a closer eye on her. Letters and gold came now, though infrequently and through ill-reputed messengers. She didn't like having to take ill-gotten gains, but they needed it. Jenny kept track of every penny of stolen money they spent with the intention of eventually paying back those her husband had robbed. Often in the evenings after the children had gone to bed, if Ion accompanied her home, she would despair that she was married now to a thief. But she had to hang onto the hope that it would soon be over and he would have money enough to buy himself a pardon.

"Soon" turned into months, then years. Captain Jack Sparrow came home every few months but there was never a guarantee of how long he would be there. Sometimes he would stay two days, sometimes two months, but never long. During these times Ion would make himself scarce, sometimes even leaving with his family if they were in town, but Ben kept a careful eye on the Nest regardless of who shared Jenny's bed. Jack also managed to make it home for the children's birthdays, which would include his and Jenny's anniversary, but each year young Jack seemed to grow more resentful of his father. Jenny did her level best to encourage a charitable attitude and forgiveness, to remind Jack that the pirate was his father and loved him very much, but as the lad neared his teenage years he would have less and less of it. Eventually the time came to tell the girls also of their father's true vocation and though there were mixed feelings they were still yet too young to see him as anything other than a hero, and that was young Jack's one concession to his mother; never to disparage Captain Sparrow in front of his sisters.

Four years had passed this way when once again the letters and the money stopped coming and Captain Jack Sparrow stopped coming home. Captain Teague--who still came round every Christmas and Easter--assured Jenny that Jack was simply busy, and it had only been three months after all. He'd met up with the son of his old crew mate, the kind Bootstrap Bill she remembered from his very first voyage, and the whelp had gotten himself into a spot of trouble with some other pirates. Nobody had ever bothered telling her that that pirate was Jack's old friend and mentor Hector Barbossa. It was complicated, he'd said, with the Company getting involved as well and that never boded well for anyone. She couldn't help but agree at that, still harboring resentment against the Company years after what they'd done to her husband. Still she had a feeling that Captain Teague was hiding something from her when her letters begging Jack to come home went unanswered, and it was this feeling that kept a scowl on her face as she cleaned off the tables as the Anchor closed down. Ion had offered to help or to at least walk her and the children home again, but she'd sent him on his way. They both knew how it would look, what people would say when they knew she was pregnant again if the gypsy was seen too often with her now. It was a small miracle nobody had noticed yet.

Jenny was so preoccupied with her thoughts and her worries that as she stepped out of the Anchor to lock up before heading home--Jack was of an age now he could look after his sisters on his own--that she didn't notice a dark, familiar shape lurking in the shadows of the alley.
 
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