Getting the girl onto the Black Pearl took less effort than any of them expected.
She barely resisted. She barely moved. When Gibbs and Ragetti hauled the small boat close enough for Jack to reach down, the child stared up at them as if they were monsters pulled from the sea—four dirty pirates framed by smoke on the horizon, their ship black as a bad omen, their faces still streaked with dirt.
Jack extended a hand.
For a long second, the girl didn't take it. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the boat until her knuckles whitened, eyes darting across their faces as if searching for the least dangerous one.
Pintel leaned over with what he believed was a comforting smile.
It was not.
The girl flinched as though he'd bared teeth.
Pintel's smile froze. "I'm… being friendly."
Ragetti snorted. "You look like you're about to eat her."
"I do not!"
"You do," Ragetti insisted. "You look hungry."
Pintel's offended expression only seemed to make it worse.
The girl's gaze snapped to Jack—hat tipped low, coat open, rum bottle in hand, eyes oddly calm. He did not reach further. He simply waited, still as the sea. That, more than anything, seemed to convince her.
She reached up.
Jack caught her hand and pulled her aboard gently.
The moment her feet touched the deck, she didn't look around. She didn't ask anything. She simply moved closer—close enough that her small fingers found the edge of Jack's coat and gripped it like a lifeline.
Pintel blinked. "Well… that's rude."
Ragetti laughed outright. "She chose. You lost."
Gibbs crouched in front of her, careful not to loom. His voice softened without him seeming to notice. "Easy, now. You're safe."
The girl's breathing was shallow and quick. Her eyes stayed wide, fixed on the men who should have terrified her. The smoke from Ohara still stained the sky behind them, a dark column rising like a funeral flag.
Pintel cleared his throat, trying again. "What's your name?"
The girl looked at him and shrank closer into Jack's coat.
Pintel threw his hands up. "I asked nicely!"
Ragetti leaned in and stage-whispered, "Stop smiling. It's horrifying."
"I'm not smiling now."
"That's worse."
Jack glanced down at the child, expression careful. "What's your name, then?"
Her grip tightened once more.
Then, very softly, she answered.
"Nico… Robin."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "Robin. From where?"
Robin swallowed. Her voice shook. "Ohara."
Silence.
The sea creaked against the hull. The Black Pearl's sails fluttered faintly. Somewhere far away, cannons still rumbled like thunder.
Pintel's mouth opened and closed, as if his mind refused to complete the sentence. "But… we just watched…"
Ragetti's voice came out rougher than usual. "She said Ohara."
Jack did not move. His hand remained loosely at his side, but his posture had changed—subtly, almost imperceptibly.
Gibbs finally spoke, voice low and disbelieving. "What do you mean, last survivor? Didn't the... marines evacuate you?"
Robin's eyes glistened. She wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve, smearing soot and tears together. "The Marines didn't evacuate," she whispered. "They came without warning. Only one hour to leave. Many didn't make it."
Pintel frowned, trying to force the world to make sense. "That… that can't be right."
Gibbs did not correct him. His face had darkened, memory scraping raw against the present.
Robin drew a shaky breath and began.
She spoke haltingly at first, as though each word cost her something.
"I am eight," she said. "I passed the archaeology exam. They… they called me a scholar."
Ragetti looked startled. "Eight?"
Robin nodded, eyes lowered. "They didn't like me. The other children. They said I was strange."
Jack's gaze drifted to the smoke column again. He did not interrupt.
Robin continued, voice quieter. "I wanted to learn what my mother learned. I wanted to know the history… the secrets of the world."
Gibbs stiffened. Jack's eyes sharpened, though he said nothing.
Robin's hands clenched. "Professor Clover told me to stop. He said I'd be banned from the library if I kept spying. I… I cried. I ran away."
Pintel shifted uncomfortably. He did not know what to do with a crying child's story. He had never known what to do with any story that wasn't funny.
Robin's voice wavered but she forced it onward. "I went to the northwest beach. I met a giant. Jaguar D. Saul. He was washed up on shore."
Ragetti blinked. "A giant?"
Robin nodded, and for a fleeting moment something softer passed over her face. "He was loud. He laughed too much. He… he was kind."
The deck was quiet, all four pirates listening now, even Pintel. The sea rocked beneath them gently, indifferent.
Robin's voice steadied as she spoke of those days. "I visited him for four days while he built his raft. He told me jokes. He told me that one day, I'd find friends."
Her lips trembled.
Then the memory turned.
"He found out where he was," she said. "He told me battleships were coming. He said they were coming because the scholars studied something forbidden."
Gibbs' hands tightened on the railing. Jack's jaw set.
Robin looked up at them, eyes bright with fear and fury. "I went back to the Tree of Knowledge. I asked about my mother."
Gibbs' voice was gentle. "Your mother…?"
Robin nodded, swallowing hard. "Nico Olvia, I learnt later."
Jack's eyes flickered.
Robin's voice cracked. "They said she wasn't there. They wanted me to leave. They told me not to say I was an archaeologist. They said I'd be arrested."
She shook her head. "I didn't leave."
Her small hands trembled. "CP… CP agents came. They searched the tree. They arrested everyone. Professor Clover told me again to escape."
Ragetti's face twisted in quiet rage. Pintel's hands clenched at his sides.
Robin's eyes brimmed over. "They brought my mother. She was hurt. She… she recognized me right away."
Jack felt something twist deep inside him. He remembered a ship burning, remembered a crate, remembered his father's voice forcing calm into terror. Live. Be free.
Robin continued, voice barely holding together. "They found what they wanted. Spandine… he sentenced everyone to death. Professor Clover tried to speak to the leaders through a Den Den Mushi. He tried to explain why they were really afraid."
Her breath hitched. "He didn't even finish before they shot him."
Silence deepened. Even the sea seemed quieter.
Robin pressed on, as if afraid if she stopped she'd drown in it. "The bombardment began. The island shook. My mother told Saul to get me off the island. She told me to live."
Her voice became small. "I begged her to come with me."
Jack watched her face as she relived it, and something in him hardened—into the cold, familiar certainty that the world did not hand out mercy for free.
Robin wiped her eyes again, smearing soot across her cheek. "Saul carried me. The Marines shot at him. He… he fought back. He destroyed ships."
Pintel whispered, stunned, "A giant fought warships…"
Robin nodded. "I tried to reach an evacuation ship. I… I used my ability to climb aboard."
Ragetti blinked. "Ability?"
Robin's shoulders curled inward. "They were afraid. They pushed me away. They said I was dangerous. Spandine told them not to let me on because I was an archaeologist."
Gibbs' expression went tight with a kind of anger that felt old.
Robin stared at the deck. "Then… another Marine destroyed the evacuation ship. He said it was in case any scholars were hiding."
Pintel's breath caught. "They destroyed their civilian ship?"
Robin nodded, tears finally spilling freely. "I watched it sink."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Saul tried to take me away. A Marine with ice power… Kuzan… froze him."
Her voice broke completely. "He froze Saul."
Jack's chest tightened.
Robin whispered, "Saul told me to escape. He told me my friends were waiting for me out in the ocean. He told me… to laugh."
Her shoulders shook. "I tried."
She covered her face with both hands, sobbing now, small body trembling as if the grief had finally reached her bones.
Jack hesitated.
Jack Sparrow did not do physical comfort. He did not do tenderness in public. He did not do anything that looked like he cared too much.
But he had watched his own world burn. He had watched his family die and disappear into chains. He knew the shape of this pain even if the details were different.
Awkwardly, he crouched and pulled her into an unsteady hug.
His hand patted her back twice, stiff and uncertain.
"There," Jack said quietly, as though negotiating. "That's… terrible. Very terrible."
Robin clung to him without hesitation, crying into his coat.
Gibbs moved in next. His hand wiped soot and tears from Robin's cheek with a gentleness that did not match the man who slapped pirates and fired cannons. For a moment he looked older than thirty-five, like someone who remembered what it meant to be responsible for small lives.
Jack noticed it.
He had forgotten Gibbs used to be a father.
Ragetti muttered curses under his breath—against Marines, against the World Government, against a world that could burn an island for curiosity.
Pintel swallowed hard and added his own shaky, furious agreement. "Bastards," he said, voice thin.
Robin's sobbing slowed, exhaustion overtaking grief. Her grip on Jack loosened. Her head drooped.
Gibbs caught her gently before she slipped. "She's out," he murmured.
He lifted Robin carefully, cradling her like she weighed nothing, and carried her below deck. The crew's sleeping quarters were cramped—shared by Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti—but there was a cot. Gibbs laid her down and pulled a blanket over her.
Robin's face relaxed slightly in sleep, but even then her brows stayed faintly furrowed, as though she was afraid the world would take this rest too.
Gibbs returned to the deck.
Jack stood at the railing, staring at the distant smoke still staining the sky.
Gibbs' voice was low. "What do we do?"
He looked at Jack. "I want to keep her with us."
Ragetti nodded immediately. Pintel nodded too, though he looked like he'd only just realized he was agreeing.
Gibbs continued, jaw tight. "But the repercussions… the World Government won't let a survivor live. Not if she knows what she knows."
Jack exhaled heavily. For a moment he looked very young again—nineteen, still learning what it meant to be survive in this cold world.
Pintel pointed toward the horizon. "Island ahead."
Jack stared at it, then nodded slowly.
"We decide there," he said. "After we get information. After we learn what story the World Government tells the world."