Summary: "'You Turners really aren't all that bright.'" Henry Turner has sought out Jack Sparrow for one reason and one reason alone. AU. Sparrabeth, with mentioned Willabeth.

Atonement

"Excuse me, sir, could you please tell me if you've heard of the whereabouts of Captain Jack Sparrow?" The voice belonged to a young man with blonde hair, who had stopped to speak to a drunken man on the pier.

"Dead." The drunk sailor didn't skip a beat. "Go home, son, ye're wastin' your time."

The young man sighed and moved on to the next lazy pirate, undeterred.

Bugger. Nosy brat. Jack Sparrow- the very same that the young man spoke of- tugged his tricorn hat lower over his face as he turned back towards his ship and began to board the gangplank. Bloody lad's going to get himself in over his head asking the wrong person questions like that.

"Sir, I have a question." The voice was practically in his ear, and a hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind to halt him. "Could you tell me-"

"-Sorry, lad. Crew's full." He shook the hand off. "'M sure there's plenty o' other vessels ''round 'ere lookin' for an able-bodied sailor such as yourself."

"What?" The boy stammered, thrown off. "I'm not looking for work."

"Shoo, then. I've not the time to stand 'round talkin' with the locals, savvy?" Anything to get the kid to leave.

"Cap'n, she's loaded to the brim an' ready to sail!" Joshamee Gibbs called down.

Thank bloody Calypso. Let's get out of here, then.

"Wait, sir, please- surely you know something of Jack Sparrow?" The young man insisted, halting the pirate captain within two steps of progress.

Jack bit back a sigh. "Never heard o' 'im, lad. Ye sure ye have the right name?"

"Yes. My mother spoke of him often when I was younger."

"...Right. How 'bout this: Are ye sure he's real?"

"Yes!" The young man huffed in an exasperated manner that the pirate found oddly familiar.

"Who are you?" Jack didn't mean for his accent to break, but it did. As his eyes took in the boy before him, he realized that more than his annoyance was familiar. His eyes, his hair, his tall frame. He better not be another Turner…

"Henry. Henry Turner."

He grimaced. Of course, he's a Turner- who isn't? Can't go anywhere without one, can I? Well, so much for trying to escape the kid. "Right, then…" He nodded a little, unable to clear the frown from his face completely as he reluctantly stuck out his hand. "What do ye need from me then, Mister Turner?"

Henry flashed him a baffled look. "I already told you- Oh. You're Jack Sparrow?"

"You Turners really aren't all that bright." Jack muttered, rolling his eyes. He jerked his head up the gangplank. "C'mon, lad, I've a feelin' ye don't want half of the bloody port to hear what ye have to ask me."


"Well?" Jack inquired, throwing his feet up onto his desk to make himself comfortable in his chair. "What brings ye to Tortuga?"

Henry hesitated, clearly trying to be careful in what he said. Clever idea, lad. "I'm in search of my father."

"O' course ye are." He sighed. "Look, William's curse can't be broken, an' he dies if anyone stabs his heart. Didn't your mother ever tell ye that?"

"...She told me that you were my father." The young man confessed.

Elizabeth, love, thanks a lot. "Your mother lied to ye, son. She's faithful to bloody Will, an' 'm never goin' to have a child."

Henry quietly observed him for a moment, but his voice was in light accusation when he spoke. "You're lying."

"Would I do that?"

"Mother tells me that you do it a lot."

Jack raised an eyebrow, stung. "'M sure she does. But how do ye know she doesn't do the same?"

"Stop trying to change the subject." He barked, and the pirate recognized Elizabeth's stubbornness in him. His voice grew dark as he went on. "Because, unlike you, she was there for me! She raised me on her own! And where were you- drinking your life away?"

He reeled back at the boy's unexpected outburst. Then, his heart clenched at the familiar look of uncertainty in the other's eyes; Henry was as uncertain about his own parentage as Jack had been as a child. He couldn't bring himself to lie about it any longer.

"Alright, ye've got me." He sighed, giving a small somber nod. "Ye know, if there's one thing I've done more than lie...I've made a lot o' mistakes, lad. Perhaps I should've stayed with the pair o' ye, perhaps not. But a man like myself can't settle down. I bloody well asked her to come with me. She wouldn't."

"Why not?" Henry's voice was quiet, almost mournful.

A rueful smile quirked on Jack's lips, and he couldn't meet the boy's eyes. "Because of William, o' course. Everythin' always came back to him, in the end. She loved him, too, didn't want to leave him high an' dry. I couldn't make myself press her on it."

"She always spoke highly of him." The young man agreed, his own gaze averted uncomfortably.

"Is she still alive?" He already knew the answer.

"No." Henry murmured. "I'm sorry, Jack."

The sound of his name on the lips of his son didn't bother him. "I thought not."

"She only told me the truth about you on her deathbed. Then, she asked me the most peculiar question. Well, it was peculiar at the time."

Jack gave a small hum to show that he was listening.

"She asked me not to kill you when I found you."

God, I miss you, love. He snorted lightly at that, a sad smile playing on his lips. "That's something only she could do."

"She didn't want me to make the same mistake that she did." Henry explained quietly, a similar look of mournful fondness crossing his face. "Pushing you away, she told me that it's what she regretted most."

"...I know." Jack acknowledged, slowly looking back up at him. "Bit o' pain on both sides, there."

"Yes." Henry murmured, the corners of his lips turning upwards a little. "She wanted me to ask you for your forgiveness."

"She already has it." He assured him. "Though if anyone should be askin' for forgiveness-"

"You have none to ask for."

Jack slowly nodded, allowing the gentle clemency to sink in. He took a deep breath glancing through one of the large windows in the back of the cabin. The night was dark, and the drunken celebrations in port seemed far away. "She raised ye well. 'M proud o' ye, lad."

"Thank you." The young man accepted softly. He finally settled himself in a chair, though he seemed stuck on asking something. "...May I stay aboard? That is, if it doesn't bother you, of course. I…" Ye have nowhere else to go.

"Ye won't hear me complainin'." He promised.

"Thank you-" Henry started, cutting himself off abruptly with a wistful expression. "Thank you, Father."

There was a pang in Jack's chest, and he wasn't sure if it was a welcome feeling or not. But he offered a small, sincere smile all the same. "The Pearl's your home as much as she is mine. Ye can count on that."