Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Pirates of the Caribbean. I own my OCs and only them. I'd really like to say that these authors are awesome: RumQueen ScarletRosePetal and Chigaga! Yeah, you guys are an inspiration… my inspirtion! Lol… to the story---

Lifelong Ties

First Sights

The first memory I have of "Captain" Jack Sparrow, was when I was nine. The wooden brown ship's white sails touched the horizon and in no time at all, the Wicked Wench was docking at Tortuga, sails billowing with the wind, same as it always had.

My father was unloading cargo; I was watching him work while the sun glinted off his glittering, bronzed skin. I'm not sure how long I'd been out there, watching, but with no known mother, and living where I did, what was I supposed to do? Grow up all ladylike akin to the stuck up, pig-faced nobles at Port Royal? I think not!

Anyway, sitting there, I saw the black haired boy leap off the boat soon as it stoped. Actually, I could have sworn he jumped before the boat stopped, and narrowly missed plunging into the radiant blue water of the Caribbean. The captain stood at the rail, all the while watching the boy with a small smile playing on his lips. Suddenly he turned, talking to his first mate. Then he bellowed some orders and disappeared below deck. Turning my attention from the Wench's captain, I searched for the boy.

I found him outside a local tavern, his face pressed flat against the glass as he watched the barmaids clean up for the night crowd.

"Yer not gett'n in there jus' by look'n!" I said, grabbing his shoulder and turning him to face me.

Aside from his predictably ruddy skin complexion, I was perplexed as I looked into near black eyes, not stone cold, like I had assumed, but lit with the warmth and loving brown. So innocent, I thought, looking at him curiously. Pondering his age, I didn't realise he was looking at me with certain expectancy. Expectancy that was an inch from foot tapping, or such like.

"Ri'gh," I muttered gruffly. "Wha's ye name?" Regardless of the fact that he was older than me by, say, two years or so, I had been here since birth and haven't left it much. I was the superior.

"Jack," he replied, "Jack Sparrow." A few moments passed before Jack jerked his head in the direction of his shoulder and said, "Luv, the arm." I removed my hand abruptly.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking down at my torn, frayed, patched and dirty dress. I hate the stuff they sell at this tiny port. They think any girl's a whore. My face lit up, "Would ye be meanin' ye father's Captain Grant Sparrow, then?"

"Aye! That he is." Jack pause for a moment, thinking, "I dunno why 'tis, but they all call 'im Teague, nowadays," he said, brows knitted together.

"Mmmm…" I nodded, glancing down his attire; simple navy blue breeches, once white shirt with a navy blue vest over it, countless belts and brown boots. No pistol, no knife and certainly no cutlass. What's his father been doing? My head screamed.

"Ye know any sword work?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

"Nah, not really. Watched some of me dad's crew though," he replied. I don't think he looked too proud of it, either.

"Oh. Ye'd best be comin' with me," and I grabbed him by the arm, dragging him through the streets and alleyways, a certain destination locked in my head.

We drew up at the blacksmith's within record time. Jack was panting slightly, his forehead shining with sweat.

"OI! Bronzer!" Open up, 's me," I yelled, banging on the door with brute force. Probably too much but he'll get over it. I've always been like that, and the door's still good.

The wood parted and big bald black man stuck his head through the gap.

"Oh. 'S ye, ye li'l brat!" He smiled and opened the door while I pulled Jack through it. "'Ho's he?"

"Jack," I replied to Bronzer, although I looked at Jack, "this is Bronzer."

"So I've heard," he drawled.

"Bronzer," I continued, unfazed, "this's Jack Sparrow… Cap'n Teague's boy."

Bronzer had been handling something metal, and hot, from the forge in clamps, which he dropped at my statement about Jack's genetics. "O-oh," he said gruffly, letting it drag out, "'s that so?" He bent to pick up the fallen length of metal and realised that the potential sword now resided in a second pair of clamps that Jack held. The boy had a look of wonder on his face.

"Ye'd best be given' that back, boy," Bronzer suggested, before pointing out, "Mind 's hot, now," as Jack briskly shoved the clamps into the smith's grip.

For the duration of this exchange, Jack's eyes never left mine. Their dark depths were considerate and measuring. I was just about to ask him if he'd awfully mind staring at something far more interesting, as the penetrating gaze was quite unnerving, when he opened his mouth.

"Luv," he said quietly, "ye've yet to tell me your own name?" His eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared under the faded red bandana that he used to tie his hair back with.

"Sorry," I said yet again, "'m Katriana Harping. Most call me Rian, though."

"Aye. Then, Rian, what are we doing here? And why am I following you, of all people?"

Bronzer answered the question for me, "Jack, son. Ye're wond'rin' 'round Tortuga, of all places, with naught but yer fists to defend yerself. 'N ye on'y settle for hand-to-hand as a last resort. I 'spose Rian wan'ed t' give ye a few sword lessons afore ye got yerself killed. Plus, I'd guess she near dragged ye here, of I know 'er well enough."

Jack nodded his head, seemingly finding this a good reason, or twenty. I settled on a bottle of rum to reward Bronzer tomorrow and mentally made a note to pay him a visit with the reward.

We passed the rest of the day with Bronzer as he made Jack's new sword, and I taught him a few blocks and blows. By the time we emerged from the smith's, the sun had left the horizon, leaving in its place a fiery shadow.

The smith told us kindly, "Mind that th' place is getting on t' th' danger time."

"Cheers," I said, turning to Jack, "Ye know th' way to th' Wench?"

"I'd think I'd know the way back to me own ship," he retorted, somewhat aggressively.

"Now, now, ye shut it 'n I'll take ye there. Ye don', 'n ye'll have t' find it yerself," I replied, the epitome of calm.

He said nothing and I assumed I'd lead him to the ship, so I took his hand in mine, and pulled him down the street. After all, I still had to check on Father. Sometimes I think I'm the mother of the world, seeing as no-one else tries to help around here.

The Wench was bobbing up and down with the swell of the ocean, lanterns of light dotting it at intervals. A few of the crew were still there, keeping watch.

"Until tomorrow, then," Jack said, half skipping half running up the gang plank, his new sword bouncing with the movement.

"Aye! Tha' I will!"

We spent the next three or so days, not that I was counting, sparring off with each other. I taught him cheats, blows and kicks that he could use in case of need. He had successfully executed a turning kick with a back slash when Jack realised we had an audience. Glancing to the right, a direction in which Jack's eyes were transfixed on, and saw his father standing there, a considering look in his eyes.

I slid my cutlass around Jack's own in a lock I'd taught him yesterday, and flicked my wrist. The movement effectively disarmed him at the same time as reminding him that we were still duelling. He looked at me, shock transforming into an evil sneer as he realised I was standing there with my sword arm at a ninety degrees angle to my body, leaving my side unguarded. I knew what was coming as soon as the sneer appeared on his ruddy face. Unfortunately, that was too late and before I could do anything, he spun around and kicked me there, causing my hand to drop the sword. He caught the fallen blade and swung it in a cut that stopped just short of my neck, sitting on my left shoulder. Quick learner.

Jack's father clapped his hands briefly and came to stand next to his son. "I'm to understand that you taught him what he knows?"

He surprised me with his ability to pronounce properly.

"Aye, Cap'n!" I exclaimed. "He jumped off the ship with naught but 'is fists!" I looked at Jack and back to his father, "Sorry, if ye wan'ed t' teach 'im yerself, but ye'd be leavin' it a bit late, if that be the case."

"Hmm…" he turned to Jack, "We're setting sail as the sun rises, you'd best be getting some sleep, now, son." Jack ran to do as he was bid, but not before trading swords with his on the ground. "As, for you, lass, I would've liked to teach Jack myself but, as you so curtly put it, I did leave it a bit late. Thank you. I hope to see you next time we visit."

He was turning to leave when he looked back at me, "Lass, what's your name?"

"Katriana Harping, Cap'n," I stood there, my hands clasped tightly behind my back to hide their shaking.

Captain Sparrow stood there a moment, thinking, contemplating, before he flipped me a gold coin. I dove forward, but when I looked up, the coin tight in my clutch, he was gone. I walked back to the Faithful Bride, a tavern my father favoured, thinking, Neat trick. Wonder if he'd teach me, some day…