My Idiot Brother: Jack Sparrow

Rum. It's Always the Rum

Jack's Point of View

I'm screwed.  I am totally and royally screwed.  

This was the only thing running through Jack's head as he paced his cabin.  It had been several weeks since Jordan, or S.J. or Jay, or whatever the bloody hell she wanted to be called, had joined the crew.  Of course, being his little sister, she couldn't join the normal way, where Jack would've had a chance to say no.  Nooooo, she had to sneak on board.  Of course, being him, he had to give her some grudging respect for it.  I guess she turned out like a pirate after all, he thought.

Not that he ever really cared how she turned out of course.  All the years he spent looking out for her back home.  Keeping his ears open for any mention of her turning a pirate.  Just in case he had to find her and shout some sense into her.  Staying away so he didn't bring any of his "pirate problems" home with him.  He even remembered the one time he'd shouted himself hoarse at her for drinking.  He hadn't wanted her turning out like their dad, or even like him.  No he didn't care at all.  

Of course, it was all different now.  He'd given up the title of older brother the minute he'd left.  There was no picking up where they left off.  He was honestly surprised one of them hadn't killed the other in the giant fight they'd had earlier.  Jordan had certainly looked like she'd wanted to.  And it was driving him crazy as to why she was even here.  Dad kept her locked up for almost sixteen years and now, all of a sudden, he sent her to find him.  What the hell?  

But he hadn't thought about it much to tell the truth.  He spent most of the last few weeks stone drunk, trying to numb all the confusion.  Even during the few raids they'd performed on passing merchant ships.  While cannons and guns were fired, and his men fought, he was stumbling around drunk down in his cabin.  On the few occasions he was above deck, he watched as Jordan performed reckless stunts for the amusement of herself and her crew members.  Yep, she was certainly his sister.  

She swung from ratlines and the sails like they were monkey bars.  She would run across the sail supports like they were tight ropes.  In the middle of storms.  She even once held onto the bowsprit for two hours during high winds for a bet.  Then, when the man didn't pay up, she beat the shit out of him and then tied him to the bowsprit for five hours, much to the approval of the men.  Not long after that, Gibbs came up to him.  

"The men appear to like her, don't you think Cap'n?" he said.  Jack only made a strange grunting noise.  His attention was fixated on Jordan who was now climbing the ratlines backwards as the men, taking a break from their work, watched and cheered.  It was amazing she managed to get all of her work done.  "Jack," Gibbs started, and Jack internally groaned.  Whenever Gibbs used his name, things were about to get serious.  "Don't you think you should talk to her?" he asked.  Gibbs had known about Jordan for almost as long as he'd known him.  He'd never met her of course but he knew about her.  Jack had lost count of the times he'd woken up from a night of drinking, without any idea of what happened, and each time, Gibbs seemed to know a little more about him.  His drunk mouth was going to get him in trouble one of these days.  

"I lost any right to talk to her the day I left, Gibbs." he replied.  Gibbs didn't answer.  After all, what do you say to that?  Jack was always so confident, so cocky and able to handle anything.  He didn't care about anyone but himself and his ship.  So it stunned Gibbs when he heard real regret in his voice.  "Maybe you can earn it back."  Was all Gibbs said to Jack before he walked away, leaving him more confused than ever.

So here he was now.  Pacing.  It was almost dark out.  He'd told Gibbs to bring Jordan to his cabin.  He had a plan.  A really stupid, idiotic, and possibly suicidal plan, but a plan none the less.  So, really, nothing worse than what he was used to.

Jordan walked into the cabin and stood in front of the table where his plan was laid out.  "You wanted to see me?  Captain." she said, spitting out the last word.  "Yes." Jack said clapping his hands together.  "We," he said pointing at himself then at her, "Are going to have a drinking competition."  Her eyebrows shot up so that they were hidden in her short hair.  "What?"  Jack nodded and sat at the table.  She sat too.  Phase one complete.

"We are going to have a drinking contest whilst we reminisce about the past." Jack said, that cocky smile of his plastered all over his face.  "You're drunk." was all she said.  "Not yet, no." Jack replied, still smiling.  "I don't drink." she said.  "Well tonight is an exception." Jack countered, pouring rum into two shot glasses and sliding one across the table.  She grabbed it but didn't pick it up.  "What are the rules?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.  Here comes the moment of truth.  "Every time we can think of a good memory, we drink." Jack said.  She stared at him like he'd grown another head.  "You're kidding right?"  she asked staring at him.  He shook his head.  "And when we are out of things to drink, that's when the real fun begins."  She stared at him for a full minute before saying, "This is going to be a long night."  

Three hours and four rum bottles later, they were both still conscious.  Barely.  "How about," Jordan said giggling, "That time, you hid Gran's pistols.  And she nearly gutted Teague before they found them in the rum."  Jack snorted.  "As I recall," he slurred, "You were the one who suggested we hide them in the rum."  They both took a breath and downed another shot of rum each.  "Or," Jack continued, "That time I bet... what was his name?  Kaine!  When I bet Kaine six doubloons he couldn't out drink me and then when he passed out, we raided the rum stock."  Jordan bent over laughing drunkenly.  "How come we only get along when rum is involved?" She asked when she finally straightened up.  "I don't know." Jack said pouring them another shot each.  They threw them back.  "So what's the deal with Port Royal?" Jordan asked, her voice faint and slurred.  Before he answered, Jack checked the rum.  They were out.

"Always the rum." he muttered.  Then he tried to address Jordan's question.  "A raid.  The treasury.  It's in the fort therefore we need to get in the fort.  Best way is to get arrested then escape.  You are gonna get me arrested."  Jack was stone drunk and on the verge of unconsciousness, but he was doing his best.  "How am I going to do that?" she asked, squinting against the suddenly bright lights.  She wasn't much better than Jack.  "I don't know yet." Jack answered.  "Couldn't you just go and say 'I'm Jack Sparrow'?" she asked.  "Hey," Jack said, "That's 'Captain Jack Sparrow'.  So what's with Teague sending you?" he asked in return.  Jordan gave a small giggle then hiccuped.  "He's worried about the Code.  He wants your help.  He wouldn't tell me why, just something about someone coming." she said between hiccups.  Confusion managed to make its way through Jack's alcohol clouded brain.  "Who?" he asked.  Jordan hiccuped again as she shrugged.  "No idea."  She went to say something else but when she looked at Jack again, he was leaning back in his chair, thunderous snores coming from his open mouth.  He was out cold.  

After a moment of staring at her brother, the words she was about to say still hanging on her lips, she stood up and staggered out her brother's cabin, the rum and rocking of the ship doing nothing to add to her stability.  She finally made it to the forecastle and collapsed face first into her hammock.  Just before she fell asleep, the words she'd been about to say swam their way through her numbed brain.  They won't be able to get the Code though.  Because I have the key.  Then she passed out, the key to the Pirate Code pressed against her chest.  

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