AN: (Dani) Hi all! And welcome to the first chapter of our wonderful new story! There will be action! There will be adventure! There will be treasure and lots and lots of rum! Please, do us the honor of reading it and telling us what you think! And now, on to the show!

(Heather) Read and review or the pirate gets it!

Unchained

Chapter One: The Start of Something New

Jack Sparrow, Captain Jack Sparrow if you please, woke to the feeling of someone straddling his abdomen. At first he tensed up, unsure as to whom this surprise visitor could possibly be. He refused to open his eyes though, refused to let his 'guest' know that he was awake.

But after awhile it grew to be too much. A slight smirk began to lift the corners of his mouth as the person; a woman presumably, shifted their weight slightly. He could have some fun with this. Jack snaked his hands underneath the mystery legs and then threw his weight to the right, effectively flipping them both over, the soft sheets tangling around their bodies.

He was not surprised when a familiar voice cried out. "Jack Sparrow! Get the 'ell off o' me!"

Jack merely smirked down at her, releasing her legs to prop his body up with both hands. "I shoulda known," he replied. "Ye always did have interesting ways to wake a man up, Rye."

Rye glared up at him. "Can ya get off? Yer heavy."

Jack laughed and then sat up. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Rye bolted up in the bed excitedly. "I 'ave an idea, one that will make us rich beyond all of our wildest dreams."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"

"What? No catch."

"There's always a catch love."

Rye sighed. "Not always, Jack."

"Riannon . . ."

"Don't start that Sparrow. You know I hate that."

"Then what's the catch?"

"Like I said, no catch. It's an island with untold amounts of treasure 'idden on it. All you 'ave to do is get me there an' I'll give ya 'alf."

"Ah. So all ya want is me ship?"

"No. I want yer 'elp," Rye replied. A glint of humor entered her eyes as she added: "The Pearl's just an added bonus."

Jack sighed again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to join in on another one of her crazy quests. The last one had ended slightly wrong. They had wound up looking for nothing but a book with strange writing in it.

Fetched a pretty price when they sold it though.

Rye picked up his hand, gripping it tightly in her own hands. Jack looked up into her eyes but then instantly regretted it. She had widened her eyes, giving him a look of almost perfect innocence. She knew he could never say no to that look.

"Don't you trust me Jack?" she asked, blinking her eyes.

Jack rolled is eyes and groaned in response. "Fine. Alright. I'll go wit' ya."

"Good," Rye replied, smiling and letting go of his hand. "Then get dressed. We 'ave a map ta retrieve."

"Wait," Jack called, "you don't even 'ave the map yet?"

Rye stood up quickly and patted his cheek. "Don't even worry about it. It's already mine, I jus' 'ave ta pick it up."

"But . . ."

"Come on, get dressed. We gotta go," she interrupted, and then grabbed hold of the sheet covering him and pulled with all of her might.

Caught completely unaware, Jack was pulled unceremoniously from the bed and landed in a disheveled heap on the dirty floor.

Rye cocked her head to one side slightly, staring down at him with a grin on her face. "Hmm, nice. Now get dressed. I'll be downstairs waitin'."

Before Jack could respond, Rye turned and left his room, closing the thin door behind her.

Jack sauntered down the creaky wooden stairs to the main tavern floor, his eyes searching the semi-crowded barroom. Rye grinned the moment their eyes met, and then stood up to walk towards him.

He took in her appearance then, starting with her dark red hair and youthful face. Her long hair was braided into pigtails, the thin braids hanging over her shoulders. Rye's dark blue eyes held only humor and excitement on the surface, but Jack knew that hidden deep in their depths lurked a coldness that could freeze the warmest of bloods.

Rye wore only a vest as a shirt; the vest made out of fabric the same deep red as her hair. Her breeches were a faded black, almost the same color as her knee high boots. Around her waist she wore a simple weapons belt, an old sword hanging within its scabbard. She had told Jack once that it had belonged to her father, the one heirloom that she had ever actually treasured.

"Are ya ready?" she asked, her eyebrows rising slightly as she noticed him staring.

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Aye."

Rye's grin grew wider. "Good. We 'ave an appointment ta keep."

"Are ya sure yer wantin' ta do this, lass?"

Rye smirked. "O' course. Sounds like the most fun I've 'ad in ages."

The man shook his head, keeping one eye on Jack as he wandered through the store and the other on the woman he was dealing with. The shopkeeper eyed the small skin rolled up in his hand. "Ye know it ain't safe."

Rye leaned in closer, her blue eyes locking on his own grey ones. "Nothin' is anymore. It just sounds like an adventure."

"But if the stories are true . . ." he began. Rye shushed him with a finger to his chapped lips.

"No need ta bring that up, love. I know the story an' I know the dangers an' warnings. It's all a load of crap anyway."

"Ye should be wary. Many a pirate 'as gone after this treasure, an' not one o' 'em 'ave come back."

Rye did not respond, a knowing grin lighting her face. She held out her hand silently, her eyes still holding his. She did not need another history lesson; she had had enough of it when she had first seen it. "Jus' give me what I paid for an' I'll be out o' yer way."

The shopkeeper scowled at her but placed the tan scroll in her upturned palm. Rye closed her fingers gently, careful not to crush the frail paper. She unrolled it slowly, the paper crinkling as she did so, to unveil the thin, scratchy writing. Rye nodded approvingly. "Good then. Then I guess we'll be on our way," she said, and then stood up and turned to go.

"One more thing, lass," the shopkeeper said. Rye turned to look down on him as Jack came to her side, his head cocked to one side.

"What?"

"If ye know what is comin' then ye should know the best way ta protect yerself."

"I don't think that's . . ." she began.

The man shoved something out at her, a small pouch tied with a thick brown string. The string looped wide, giving the effect that one could wear it as a necklace. Rye took it from him and held it up to her face, but then held it away as a stench radiated from it. Her face scrunched up in disgust at the smell. "What is it?"

"Protection," he stated simply. "Wear it always and it will not 'arm ye."

"Okay, fine. I'll do jus' that mate. Now, if ye'll excuse us . . ." she replied, and once again turned to go.

"Jus' be wary. Ye may not know it when it comes."

Rye rolled her eyes and opened to her mouth to reply when Jack stopped her.

"Wait," he said, grabbing hold of Rye's arm and stopping her in her tracks. "What's 'e talkin' about?"

Rye's eyebrows rose slightly at his question. "What?" she asked innocently. "Didn't I mention the curse?"