Jack Sparrow fell asleep the way he did most things: abruptly, confidently, and with absolutely no concern for consequences.
One moment he was upright on the Black Pearl's battered deck, blinking at the horizon as if it had personally offended him. The next, his knees folded, his arms flopped outward, and he pitched forward like a drunk scarecrow. His cheek smacked the wood with a sound that carried the clear message: the captain has ceased operations.
Gibbs stared at him for three long seconds.
Then he sighed with the soul-deep exhaustion of a man who had spent most of his life believing he understood logistics, only to discover the universe had invented a new kind of problem shaped exactly like a seventeen-year-old pirate.
"Of course," Gibbs muttered. "Of course you did."
They were twins in the way two fish were twins if you looked at them from very far away and squinted. Same age—sixteen or seventeen—same scruffy hair, same sun-browned skin, same habit of blinking one beat too late. Pintel was the taller one, all elbows and long limbs, with a narrow face and a permanent expression of someone trying to remember what he came into the room for. Ragetti was shorter and broader, with a rounder head, uneven teeth, and eyes that darted around as though he expected the world to throw something at him at any moment.
They moved like they shared one brain and kept passing it back and forth.
"Right," Gibbs said, rubbing his temples. "You two. Help me."
Pintel and Ragetti looked at Jack, then at each other.
"He dead?" Ragetti asked.
"No," Gibbs said. "Just drunk."
Pintel nudged Jack with his boot. Jack snored.
"Strong drink," Pintel said respectfully.
"Haul him to his quarters," Gibbs ordered. "Carefully. He's still the captain."
Jack's head bumped against a loose coil of rope.
Jack did not wake.
Jack's shoulder scraped against a cracked railing.
Jack did not wake.
Jack's hair caught on a splinter and tugged.
Jack's mouth opened.
Gibbs tensed.
Jack snored.
Gibbs relaxed. "He's indestructible," he muttered, and then immediately regretted saying it out loud.
The twins wrestled Jack toward the cabin. They stopped at the door and stared at it like it was a complicated puzzle.
"Which way does it open?" Ragetti whispered.
Pintel leaned close, squinting. "Toward you."
Ragetti pulled. The door hit him in the forehead.
Pintel sighed and pushed it inward.
They dragged Jack inside, maneuvered him around a table missing one leg, and dumped him onto a narrow cot. Jack rolled once, hugged a pillow he hadn't earned, and immediately resumed snoring like he was paid per breath.
Ragetti wiped his brow. "Captain's asleep."
Gibbs was already walking to the ship's main deck with tight steps, scanning the rigging and the torn sail lines.
The Black Pearl had carried them out of Loguetown like a miracle. She had dodged cannon fire, slipped through a blockade, and outrun the Hero of the Marines for long enough to escape.
Now she looked like she'd be offended if someone suggested she should keep doing that.
A rope was half-frayed near the mast. The starboard railing had cracked where a wave had smashed into it. Several planks near the stern were warped and darkened with seawater. The main sail had two long tears stitched crudely with whatever thread Jack had found earlier, which meant the sail now looked like a wound someone had tried to sew with optimism.
Gibbs clenched his jaw.
"Repairs," he said to himself. "We need repairs. We need supplies. We need—"
His stomach growled.
"—food," he added bitterly.
Ragetti stepped closer, sniffing the air like a dog. "Do we have any food?"
Gibbs looked at him. "No."
Pintel blinked. "Why not?"
"Because our captain is a lunatic," Gibbs said. "And because I'm a fool who listened to him."
Ragetti nodded as if that explained everything.
A few hours passed. The Pearl kept a steady course away from Loguetown, the sea calming as the chaos behind them shrank into distance. Gibbs stayed on deck, listening for pursuit, watching the horizon. Pintel and Ragetti hovered near the mast, occasionally pointing at things that were not threats and whispering nonsense to each other.
At one point, Pintel said, "Do you think the Marines can swim?"
Ragetti replied, "They can, but their justice weighs them down."
Gibbs stared at them. "Stop talking."
They stopped for three seconds, then resumed whispering, quieter.
Jack woke late in the afternoon.
He emerged from his cabin with the slow dignity of a man who believed he had won something important.
His hair was a mess. His eyes were clearer than before, and he moved like his stomach had made a deal with his brain to stop spinning the world. He stepped onto the deck, inhaled, and then frowned at the ship's state as if he was seeing it for the first time.
"What happened to my ship?" Jack asked.
Gibbs turned slowly.
Pintel and Ragetti went still, sensing danger the way animals sensed storms.
Jack looked at the two new faces and tilted his head. "And who are they?"
Gibbs' eye twitched.
Jack smiled brightly at him, completely unaware. "What's up?"
Gibbs lunged.
"You," Gibbs hissed, "are the worst captain I have ever met in my entire life."
Jack raised his hands in an attempt at calm. "You've met… the last captain you met was Salazar."
Pintel and Ragetti grabbed Gibbs around the torso from behind. They weren't strong enough to truly restrain him, but they were awkward enough to slow him down.
Gibbs struggled. "LET ME—"
Jack tried to straighten his vest. "Now, now—"
"You left me washing dishes!" Gibbs shouted.
Jack frowned. "That's not—"
"You fired a cannon at the execution platform!" Gibbs continued, voice rising.
Jack's eyes widened. "That cannon was pointed at the platform?"
Gibbs made a strangled sound like his soul was trying to escape through his throat.
"You didn't know?!" Ragetti blurted.
Jack hesitated. "It was… facing that direction."
Pintel stared at him in admiration. "That's incredible."
Gibbs glared at Pintel. "No, it's not."
Jack spread his hands. "Alright, alright. Let's be reasonable. We survived."
Gibbs jerked his head toward the horizon. "Because the ship is fast, not because you're clever."
Jack brightened. "Yes, the ship is fast. That counts."
Gibbs pointed at the torn sail. "That sail counts too. It counts us toward sinking."
Jack stepped closer to look at the damage, then winced. "We'll fix it."
"With what money?" Gibbs snapped. "With what supplies? With what crew?"
Jack gestured at the twins. "We have crew."
Pintel puffed out his chest. "We're—"
"Don't," Ragetti warned him.
Pintel ignored him. "We're pirates!"
Gibbs turned his head slowly. "You two are stowaways."
Jack nodded. "Crew."
Gibbs closed his eyes, then opened them again, and the fury returned. "And whose fault is it that we're now the most wanted idiots in the East Blue?"
Jack considered, serious for the first time since waking. "You."
Silence hit the deck.
Ragetti's mouth fell open.
Pintel whispered, "Bold."
Gibbs' face went red. "Me?!"
Jack nodded with calm certainty. "You told me to drink an entire bottle of rum."
"I told you to sip it!"
Jack frowned. "You said initiation."
"I made that up!"
Jack wagged a finger. "So you admit it. Your lie caused my actions."
Gibbs jerked against the twins' grip. "I'LL THROW YOU INTO THE SEA!"
Jack stepped back a little. "Now, now. We're a team."
The twins slowly released Gibbs as he visibly forced himself to breathe.
Jack took advantage of the moment.
"We have to lay low," Jack said, voice steady. "Marines will search for us. Especially after today."
Gibbs rubbed his temples. "Today."
Jack nodded. "Today."
Pintel raised a hand. "Captain… is it true you fired at Gold Roger?"
Jack shifted his weight, trying to look dignified. "I fired a cannon. It went somewhere. People screamed. History happened."
Ragetti whispered reverently, "We're witnessing the birth a legend, and we are part of it."
Gibbs snapped, "He's an idiot."
Jack cleared his throat. "Can either of you fight?"
Pintel grinned. "I can dance."
Ragetti grimaced. "He dances like someone shot his leg."
Pintel frowned. "Once."