Obviously I don't own these characters.
I wrote this last night while I couldn't sleep and also couldn't see the page. It could have been a stand alone but I decided to use it as the first chapter of a Jack fic set before the films (even though it's not terribly connected to the rest of the story). The next chapter will involve the mutiny and will deffinatly be M. Hopefully I'll write it soon but I am supposed to be studying at the moment.
The backstory I made up for this is that Jack's mother was a prostitute and abandoned him when he was very young. It's not very important but just in case anyone is confused and thinks he's actually supposed to have fallen out of the sky.
Sorry for any historical inaccuracies.
The barrel of the musket was aimed straight at his face.
"Don't you reach for that sword," the red coat instructed.
The teenager swore again, creatively.
"You'll be loosing a hand theif. And if you're a pirate as well, which I don't doubth, it'll be the gallows. They can leave you hanging there for the crows to pick out your eyes for all I care. Scum like you - " His words were cut off as he fell heavily and abruptly to land in an untidy heap. A roof-tile bouncd off his head and smashed on the cobblestones.
Slightly stunned himself at his good fortune Bill looked up.
Perched on the roof of the nearest shop was a waif-like child with an unruly mass of dark hair.
"Thanks," he managed.
"Don't like soldiers. They..." The boy didn't finish his sentence.
"Do you want to come down here?" Bill asked.
He looked skittish and afraid, as though at any second he might dart away.
"I won't hurt you. I promise."
He considered a moment, nervously. Then he must have decided that the unknown young man was trustworthy because - apparently without effort - he scrambled down.
Bill guessed his age at about eight, though with his tiny frame he could easily have been half that. He was barefoot and wore an assortment of filthy rags that may or may not have once been clothes. Bird feathers were tied into his hair and his large chocolate-brown eyes were slightly sunken due to malnutrition. His tanned skin was farther darkened by dirt and far too many bruises.
"What's your name?"
"Jack. What's yours?"
"Bill Turner. Where are your parents Jack?"
"I don't got any. I never did." He said it almost proudly.
"So where did you come from then?"
He laughed. "I fell outa' sky. Like a bird." A pause. "You really a pirate?"
Smilling and holding one finger to his lips Bill gave a conspiritorial wink.
The child clapped in delight.
"Would you like to see my ship?"
Carefully stepping on the unconsciouss soldier Bill led the way to the dock.
"You know, I think we need a cabin boy. I could talk to the captain if you'd like. We'll get you something to eat at least."