A/N: You know, I really shouldn't be here. I should be safe back in the world of Tamora Pierce, but no, I've been dragged out into these uncharted waters by a certain Savvy Jack Sparrow. So, here I am. With my first attempt at writing a fic using someone else's characters. Hope it goes well. I've tried my very best to keep everyone in character, so yell at me really loud if they aren't, savvy?

Return of the Sparrow

Chapter 1

Captain Jack Sparrow leaned thoughtfully against the wheel of the Black Pearl. He gazed out over the calm seas. Now that he had The Pearl and his crew back, he pondered what exactly he was going to do with it all. Continue his usual life of pilferage and plunder, he supposed. Though, now that he was no longer spending his days chasing after Barbossa, it all did seem a little pointless.

They had sailed out of Port Royal nearly two weeks ago now, and Jack was itching for a bit of excitement. It appeared that Will's good points had rubbed off onto Jack somehow as he was not as inclined to jump at the thought of a raid as he once was. They idea of giving up his pirate's life and turning somewhat respectable almost sounded appeasing - almost, but not quite.

Giving a lopsided grin he turned the wheel and took the ship around a large rock formation in the middle of the ocean. The water was shallower here, but he knew the Pearl could make it over fine. They came to the other side of the rocks and his dark eyes grew wide at the sight that lay before them.

Pieces of what had once been a ship lay scattered across the water.

"Must 'ave sailed into the rocks, Capt'n," Mr., Gibbs said coming up behind him.

"Perhaps," Jack commented slowly. "I don't think so though, mate."

He carefully steered the ship around the wreckage.

"Look, Captain!" One of the sailors shouted.

Peering over the railing, they saw a piece of a British flag fluttering on the tip of what had once been the mast.

"I hope we aren't bloody well blamed for this," Jack hissed under his breath, letting Anamaria take the helm.

"What do ye mean?" Mr. Gibbs asked.

"What I mean, Mr. Gibbs is that this ship was attacked. And do you know who the first people they will blame are?" He asked with a meaningful look.

Mr. Gibbs frowned, brow furrowed. "Pirates?" he asked looking up with something like hopefulness at getting the answer right.

"Aye, Mr. Gibbs. Pirates. And what are we?"

Gibbs opened his mouth slowly as though thinking it were a trick question. "Pirates?"

"Now you've got it matey," Jack said clapping him on the shoulder.

"But Jack," he began, sudden realization dawning on him, "do you really think they'd think that we would think of doing something like this?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "They'll think whatever it is that best suits them at the time, Gibbs. And I wouldn't put it past them for to think that we did this."

"What are we gonna do, Capt'n?" Gibbs asked.

"Get the hell outta here," Jack said simply taking the wheel back from Anamaria and swinging it sharply to the left.


"I've got the report right here, sir," the soldier said, setting the papers down on Commodore Norrington's desk.

Norrington began reading through the papers, his expression changing from one of boredom to surprise to horror in just a few pages.

"Pirates," he muttered vehemently.

"Sir?" the soldier asked, confused.

"One of our passenger ships, the Challenger, was destroyed," he said in a business like manner. Norrington put his elbows on his desk and leaned his head against his folded hands.

The soldier cleared his throat and Norrington looked up.

"Ah, you are dismissed," he said with a wave of his hand.

They soldier bowed crisply and left the room.

Norrington rose from his desk and began pacing in front of the window. Not even three weeks after the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow had once again "escaped" and there were already attacks. This simply could not go on, he decided. One way or another, Jack Sparrow had to be caught and dealt with accordingly. Perhaps hard labor for the rest of his life? As death penalties seemed to have little effect on him, it seemed to be the next best option. Though, he doubted anyone's abilities to keep Sparrow contained for any extended period of time. He did have a knack for getting out of various forms of confinement.

The commodore sighed. As much as he would like to overlook the matter, knowing it would make everything so much simpler, he knew that those above him would never allow it. Indeed, everyone had greatly doubted his decision to let the pirate escape. This would give him a bad name if he didn't do something about it. He sat back down at his desk and began making notes to various military officials pertaining to the capture of Captain Jack Sparrow.


Jack glanced up at the midnight stars to check that he was still going to right direction. They had not stopped sailing since they had first sighted the wreckage four days ago. He turned the wheel a little to the left and hummed softly to himself. Despite his carefree nature, the possibility of being blamed for the wreck made him very nervous. He had not intended to vex the British again for a very long time, as he escaped capture and death no less than four times in a very short period.

He continued his night thinking of how he was going to get out of this predicament. He hadn't slept in two days and was beginning to show the effects. He was slumped against the wheel in a stupor when Anamaria came up to relieve him of duty.

He staggered down the steps to the main deck and into his quarters to make another futile attempt at sleep.


He was awakened abruptly from his slumber by being thrown out of bed and hearing a nasty grating sound that rang through the air as the ship shuddered to an undeniable stop.

He scrambled to his feet and flung his door open finding himself face to face with Anamaria.

"What the blazes did you do, woman?" he asked, brushing past her without waiting for an answer. He went to the railing, hoping against hope that he wouldn't see what he was afraid he would - the bottom of the ocean. Apparently, they had sailed over a very shallow area and successfully beached themselves.

He rounded on Anamaria and found he could think of nothing to say that would make the situation any better. He only mouthed wordlessly at her while she cowered before him, before giving up and stomping back to his quarters. He paused before going in.

"When I come back out, I want this bloody ship in the water sailing, understood?!" He went in and slammed the door shut.

He threw himself onto his bed and listened to Gibbs shouting orders. He knew it was going to take a very strong wind to get them back into the water. And he had an uncanny feeling that the British navy would come before the wind did.

The thought of the humiliation that would come from someone like the Commodore seeing him in this state was nearly overwhelming and it forced him off the bed and back out on deck to see if he couldn't do something about their ever heightening dilemma.

The crew stopped in alarm at the sight of their captain coming out of his quarters.

"Ship's not sailin', is it?" one asked another and promptly received a cuff over the head.

"Lighten the ship," Jack bellowed. "Throw it all over. We'll come back for it in boats, if we have to!"

The crew tied as much of the cargo together as we possible before throwing it over, hoping it would be easier to recover that way. By the end of the day, there was not so much as a mop on the ship and they were still stuck.

"Now, we just wait for some wind," Jack said into the still air.

The next morning dawned bright, clear and windless. Jack searched the heavens for any sign of a storm that might bring enough wind to get them over the rocks, but there was none.


White sails whose mast sported a British flag could be seen on the horizon by the time the midday sun rolled around.

"This is madness," Jack said to no one in particular, rubbing his facing with his hands in desperation.

The Black Pearl's crew waited patiently as the ship neared them.

"You do know I don't blame you in the slightest, don't you?" Jack asked Anamaria with a hint of sarcasm.

"Aye," she said doubtfully.

"Told ye it was bad luck to bring a woman on board," Gibbs muttered as he passed Jack.

Jack sighed, as the smaller boats from the other ship were lowered into the water.

"May we be of some assistance?" Jack called down to the men in the boats as they neared.

They laughed. "No, Mr. Sparrow, I'm afraid it is you that will be needing assistance from us," the Commodore yelled back.

Just the old bloke I wanted to see, Jack thought bitterly.

"We have some issues to discuss, so why not be civil about it and throw a ladder down for us?" Norrington suggested.

"Sorry mate, I'm afraid I can't do that," Jack said leaning over the railing with his characteristic grin.

"And why is that?" Norrington demanded.

"Because it's out there," Jack said nodding somewhere off to the right where bits and pieces of the Pearl's cargo floated.

Norrington glanced over his shoulder and saw what Jack meant. A very strong desire to pull out his pistol and shoot the pirate then and there came over him, but he resisted the temptation, delightful as it sounded.

"Don't you have anything that will work instead?" Norrington asked, trying desperately not to lose his temper.

"Nope," Jack said carelessly as he examined the cracks in the ship's railing.

"Very well," the Commodore said, sighing in exasperation. "We shall be right back. Don't go anywhere," he added as they turned the boat around and headed back to their ship.

"Oh, we will try very hard not to," Jack called after him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

A/N: So, how was that? Sorta OK? In a way? You don't have to be nice. Really you don't. Thanks to Savvy Jack Sparrow. Without her, this NEVER would have made its way into the world.