Hi, everyone! This story is mostly set one week after AWE and completely ignores OST, so you can consider it an AU fic if you want. I don't own the characters and have never claimed to. On with the show, er, story.

Twenty-two Years Ago...

Italy

He knows so much more than he lets on, Oria thought, narrowing her eyes at Remo. Remo Benedetti smiled at her from across the table, the number of maps on top of it practically a tablecloth with yellowed tomes here and there weighing it down. His graying hair and lines at the edges of his eyes were the only hints he was anything other than a vivacious, restless youth prone to mischief- an older version of her son.

"I thought you might like these, Signora." Because he always called her "signora." "They are translations, Latin to Italian to Spanish to English and back again. Jack has quite the knack for them. These are passages from Dante, if you'd like to know."

They spoke in Italian although she'd insisted Jackie be instructed in English most of the time. The pads of her fingers massaged her temple as she skimmed the jagged handwriting. Each letter added to her dull, pounding headache. She worked more hours than most men of her class, so it was understood between both of them she would have her money's worth.

"And his arithmetic?"

"Adequate. There is barely a subject he struggles with so long as it holds his interest." Her eyes flew up, long lashes batting twice at some change in tone, some involuntary hint.

"And is that a cause of concern?" she asked.

"Is what?"

"Do you hold his interest?"

"Of course," he said before clearing his throat. "Actually, Signora, I think I should share more with you. You are aware of Jack's plans for the future?"

"He wants to be a merchant sailor," she recited. Did he find her simple? Did he assume Jackie's mouth stopped working at home? She'd known for years, before Jackie knew himself, that the sea and everything it offered called to him louder than most.

"Might I suggest, then, you allow him to learn to..." He threw a disarming grin at her, but was meant with a stern frown. "...learn to defend himself? Swordsmanship, weaponry..."

"To fight."

"Yes."

Oria shifted her weight in the chair, allowing her to see the sword sheathed near Remo's belt. Cygnus, he called it, the tang made to look like silvery feathers leading to a swan's head pummel. His family crest, she presumed. Pretending to still give the matter some thought, she inspected his hands. Rough, strong, fresh nicks near the knuckles...

"I see. And how long have I been paying you to play swords with my son, Remo?"

"Signora, I don't know what you...two months." Remo sighed and threw his back against the chair.

"Two months? Reading, literature, geography, history, arithmetic, and science! That was our agreement!"

"And I have not shirked in any of them!" Remo's hands flew up in self-defense. A thicker cut rode along his palm. Did Jackie's hands have the same wounds? She couldn't remember any, nor any attempt on his part to hide them from her. "Jack has even paid me for the lessons himself."

"How?"

"He gave me a bag of gold one day he said was from his father."

Oria unleashed a snort. Of course. Jackie had been hoarding. It was the first and last time he'd gone sailing with his father and the next thing Oria knew, Jackie had come home by himself with two bags. "My share," he'd said, failing to inform her one of them was actually John's. And here she'd thought he'd finally spent all of it. Closing her eyes, she tried to summon an image of John Teague, her headache reminding her it had been years.

"Signora..."

"This stops now. You can keep whatever he's given you, but it stops. That is his punishment."

"Signora, if I may, he has shown some skill, but he has much still to learn."

"I don't see his hands as cut up as yours."

"Because I still use a wooden sword with him. He uses Cygnus. Don't think the child can outdo the master in such a short time!" he laughed, a boisterous, proud laugh she would have found charming at any other time. "A blade is not a bad thing to have out in open water. He can defend his ship, defend his crew, defend himself...and right now, his defensive maneuvers...there is much to be desired," he laughed again, quieter. "You had said when you hired me as his tutor to give him everything necessary to make him succeed, did you not?"

"Keeping it from me..."

"I have kept it from my own wife! She'll think I've started a blood feud with your family! Forgive me if I do not show much guilt in keeping it a secret from you! You don't know much about swans, do you, Signora?"

Her blood boiled at the accusation of being ignorant about anything, but she had to shake her head, thick waves of jet black hair falling out her bun.

"Graceful, quick, and some say, beautiful." He grinned. "But you rile one up enough and it will strike. They have even been known to keep what threatens them under the water for as long as possible. It can be hard to imagine in some, but that is what must be taught to anyone who wishes to venture off at sea."

Oria inhaled, that sickening sound of clanging metal echoing in her mind, shadows of men just barely poking out from the smoke-filled air. There was blood. A splatter here or there wasn't enough for her to determine if it was the blood of her son or the blood of his enemy.

"Signora?"

"May I borrow that, Remo? Just for the night. Jackie will bring it back with him tomorrow."

"Oh..." He pouted as his hands encircled the silver swan's head on top of the sword. His bottom lip fell a few times, straining to form words. "He'll...he'll know I told you..."

"There, there, Remo," Oria said, holding back a snort. "I'll make sure he knows I forced it out of you."

"Mum?" Jackie stumbled across the threshold of their cottage, shrouded in darkness save for one meager candle on the kitchen table. He heard the excited trotting of the dogs coming his way, their eyes beginning to gleam in that feral, ferocious way he liked. All smoke and mirrors, he thought, the moment they reached him, balancing themselves on their hind legs just for a quick pat. "Where's Mum?" he asked them, shaky paws and panting tongues failing to give him any clues.

A hard thud perked his face up like a fox. It came from his room. Narrowing his eyes, he stood still and listened. No other sound followed, but the one had been enough to stop his heart. He stood frozen a moment longer, scanning the darkness for some form, some shape. Nothing.

He threw his back against the hallway, the scruff of his shirt crinkling up on his neck. Teague had found them. It's the only explanation! He'd hired spies or bounty hunters or something like that in his desperation for his share of the treasure...and his revenge. Plausibility gave way to certainty that Mum was tied to some bed in a captains' cabin, maybe leagues away by now, waiting for Teague to come and do dark, vague things to her...after he slit his boy's throat first, though.

It was this thought that made Jackie crouch down duck-walk into his room, imagining himself able to pounce up on the assailant like a jungle cat and avoiding any and all mishaps that could befall his throat...

"Gah!"

He'd bumped right into a hard shin bone. Reeling himself away as the figure stepped backwards, Jackie ran and adjusted the lamplight.

"Mother and Child, Jackie! I'm going to have a bruise!"

"Mum?"

There his mother stood at the foot of his bed, rubbing her leg with one hand and in the other holding... Don't look at it, he told himself, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling. Only someone who knew that sword would look at it and you don't know it, do you? Certainly not!

"Serves me right, trying to give you a scare before laying into you," she grumbled. The dogs, never far from Jackie, found their respective territories on the floor and circled down into a resting position. "I didn't even get to point this at you. You know what this is, don't you?"

"It's a sword."

"And who's sword?"

Jackie shrugged. "Yours, if we're playing by finders-keepers rules." He swallowed and added, "It's not mine."

"No, not yours. Just your tutor's."

Never again would he decide to go play when Remo and his mother talked alone. He'd stay for every word next time, now that those words would include fighting practice.

"What were you thinking starting all this without telling me?"

"Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

"I see you're not doing either," she snapped.

"Mum, it's for sailing!" he whined, disgusted with himself for choosing the last resort so quickly. It's always better to convince them you don't care, he reminded himself. But bloody hell, I do care! "I'm paying Remo for it, and it's only for half an hour a day...after lessons. I can't sit in that chair all day long and read about everyone else getting to go off and see the world and have adventures and..." he trailed off, folding his arms and looking away. So much for acting like you don't care, mate. Shut it.

"I already had this discussion today," Mum said with the calm, serious tone she always used when he frustrated her. "Supposedly, one can defend himself on a ship with this, although I see a pistol being more practical."

"Does that mean...?"

"No! It means that if you are going to learn to use this properly, there must be a few rules." She sat on his bed and motioned for him to join her. The dogs tilted their heads but didn't rise.

"You've already found a teacher. Congratulations." Jackie managed to read her eyes without gazing into them, a skill he began practicing on everyone now. However, with Mum he still became tripped up on whether she was being sardonic at times. "Next, you cannot start a fight with anyone. Ever. Wooden sword or not. I didn't raise a bully. Besides, if word got out that the young Jackie...what did you say you wanted to be called?"

"Sparrow."

"That young Jackie Sparrow could fight as good as a pirate, that could mean trouble for our little family." Mum lifted the blade and examined it, meeting her reflection in it. "Next rule, other than me, you can't tell anyone you know how. Last, once you have a real one for yourself, which will be far, far into the future from now, you'll understand it's a weapon. It's fun to practice with Remo, yes?"

"Yes."

"It won't be so fun when you're fighting for your life. These things deserve respect. You'll do all of that?"

"I swear."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Every word!"

"Good." She smiled at him and placed the sword in his lap. "So show me what you've been learning."