A/N The intro immediately follows the events of DMTNT-Here there be spoilers! My attempt at a back story for Carina's mother, for whom we only get a name. This is my first fic in a long time, please enjoy :)

PART I

"Thought I might find you here."

Rita May stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of the familiarly slurred words. Her cloak had been drawn so heavily around her, it was a miracle anyone in the tavern could recognize her. Let alone the man at the dimly lit table in the corner, whom even she had passed by without a second glance. Cursing herself for not exiting faster, she slowly turned to face someone she thought she'd never see again.

"Did you?" She said quietly. "Must be your lucky night, I rarely come to this side of the island anymore."

"Ah, well," The man flashed her a grin. His gold teeth glinted in the candle light. "Luck, instinct, knowing who to ask. All the same, really."

Rita's face fell into a scowl. She had few friends in Tortuga these days, but she hadn't anticipated any would betray her whereabouts so freely. Though it had been some time since anyone was actively searching for her, she was done living life on the edge, and had been bending over backwards to burn all bridges and cover her tracks.

"S'ppose that's for me, then?" She gestured to the second pint on the table.

"Oh, that…of-of course it is!" The man couldn't quite hide his disappointment as he slid the pint over to her. "A man doesn't show up unexpectedly unless he plans to buy the rounds."

Rita smiled as she sat, tipping the drink towards him courteously before taking a sip.

"Why are you here, Jack?" She said.

Jack took a long gulp from his own mug, as if he hadn't heard her.

"Y'know, one does hear things," He said, wiping the foam from his moustache. "You're about as wanted as any of us these days."

"Thanks?"

"Guess you couldn't manage to keep out of trouble, after all. I mean, bounty hunting? Rather un-ladylike," He smirked.

Rita bit down the urge to smack him, and instead leaned closer.

"Keep your damn voice down, would you? Those days are behind me."

"And yet you're still hiding."

She looked at him. His eyes were glazed from the probable hours he'd spent already drinking, but she could almost detect true concern. Trying to lighten the mood, she sighed and chuckled.

"You know as well as I do the past never stays buried. You're living proof of that. Why are you here?"

Again, Jack pretended not to hear.

"Not much work for a woman sailor, is there? Or, honest work, at least. But last I saw of you, you and Margaret Smyth about had about conquered the trade of...shall we call it 'covert exports'?"

Smyth. It was name she hadn't heard in years, and the shock of hearing it again made Rita choke on her rum. Swallowing hard, she kept her composure.

"I…Right, well, things change. She's gone, now. I couldn't much carry on the business without her," She mumbled. "And you need to lower your voice, drunkard."

"You're among thieves and pirates, love, we're in good company," Jack said. He took another sip and a sigh. "I was sorry to hear about Margaret. I always liked her."

"Mm. Me too."

"As it so happens," Jack cleared his throat, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. "That's sort of…a bit why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"Barbossa's dead."

"Oh."

It was as if a cold air circled around their tiny table. The face of the old sea captain flashed across Rita's mind along with dozens of memories, both fond and painful. What's more, she knew this news meant it was just them, now. They were the only two people remaining on Earth who knew where it was hidden.

"Wanted to tell you in person," Jack explained, burying his face in his pint once more. He didn't need to say it, but the true reason he came was clear. Yet neither one would dare be the first to mention the treasure.

"Always liked him."

"Aye. Me too."

Silence. More drinking. More silence. Jack suddenly broke it with a laugh that startled Rita's contemplation.

"Do you remember?"

"Possibly. Remember what, exactly?"

"You know. How we all met?"

She was taken aback. Here he was, after years apart, trying to have an honest, friendly conversation. After considering the question, Rita rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile.

"Hardly," she admitted. "I was so young. I was only-"

"Sixteen, and had just stolen her first boat," Jack finished. "And probably the proudest kid I'd ever met."

"You're one to speak of pride. Captain Sparrow, the youngest, daring-est, most frightful pirate in the seven seas. You were infamous."

"What, am I not still to this day?" He gave a playful toss of his hat that had been hanging on his chair. Jack smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. He had a faraway look as he gazed into the flame of the candle. Rita mimicked his stare, lost in nostalgia.

"I remember."


YEARS AND YEARS AGO

A bright morning. It was almost too bright, and the moment Rita emerged from the dark shack, she was squinting furiously. The dirt road was already bustling with carts on their way to the market, the smell of fish and donkey combining disgustingly in the air. At least she could see the ocean from the hovel they now called a home, but often the small town seemed too foul even for her liking.

"I feel absolutely ridiculous," came a voice from within.

"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the better," Rita held her hand up above her eyes as a shield face as she scanned the horizon. Nothing but fishing boats littered the harbor. "All Royal soldiers headed back to their ships at the crack of dawn, so coast is clear."

"Poor things had to hurry back to their wives," The voice joked. "Rita, get in here I can't get this cursed thing over me head."

She obliged with a dramatic sigh and re-entered the shack. There stood Margaret Smyth in front of a cracked mirror, halfway buried in a lacey dress, the top of her head just poking out.

"Don't say a word."

Stifling her giggling, Rita came to the rescue. She tugged at the bottom of the dress until Margret could slide her arms through. They stood back to admire their work in the mirror, both of them now in fine day gowns that screamed nobility. The young women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"They're hideous," Margaret exclaimed. "And look at you! I can't bear to see you in a corset."

"Feeling protective, are we? Afraid a lad from the British Navy will sweep me off my feet?" Rita said playfully.

"A fate too horrible for me to think of. You're like a baby sister to me, y'know."

"Then why is it I'm always the one taking care of you?"

"I said you were littler than me, not that you weren't smarter."

The two smiled. After one last look at their façade, they turned to the two sacks in the corner by the bed.

"Right, then. Let's get started," Margaret set off to work.

The first sack contained a variety of round fruits ranging from pomegranates, grapefruit, apples, and oranges. Their only oddity was that the night before they had all been slice into halves, with their centers hollowed out.

The second, pouches of ground tobacco leaves.

The two women worked quickly, Rita pouring a pouch into a fruit half, and Margaret sealing them and packing them in a picnic basket. When the operation was complete, they hid the sacks under the mattress on the other side of the one-room home.

"He said he'd meet us at Sundown on the North side of Kingshead," Margaret said, pulling out a dusty parasol from the dresser. "With the payment."

"We need to stop taking any deal that isn't 'pay first'," Rita said, hitching a pistol to her garter holster. "If we're cheated again, I swear…"

"That's the game, Rita. And he's coming alone. I'll handle him if he doesn't behave. Just worry about getting the boat ready," Margaret replied.

Rita walked out into the road once more and headed down to the docks, a mere skip and a hop from their front door. Her long dress swept the dirt at her feet, a feature she never understood about modern day fashion. When she reached the steps of the dock, the Portsman greeted her with a tip of his hat. She nodded and smiled in return. She and Margaret had resided on the island for a week, but hadn't dared tried to get to know any of the locals. It was lucky everyone else there had a similar lack of affinity for strangers, because everyone cordially kept to themselves.

Rita only made it a few feet along the dock before she stopped short.

"My…my boat!" She looked at where her dinghy had been tied up just the day before, and the hunk of wood and debris that now floated there instead. "What the hell happened to my boat?"

The Portsman came over to examine the scene.

"Aye, I remember. Last night when the Royal Navy was 'ere. They came from their ships already drunk, one of 'em musta crashed right in."

"What am I supposed to do now?" Rita's spat. Her heart pounded in anger.

"I'm sure we can getcha another ride out to your ship, Miss."

"This is my ship," She muttered.

"Oh. Really? Can't even go out on the open ocean with that thing," The Portsman scratched his head.

"I know! I don't! …I keep to the bays."

"Not keepin' to anything now, it looks like."

"Shut up, you!"

The Portsman shrugged and headed off towards the other end of the dock. Breathing heavily, Rita assessed her options. It was early enough that the docks weren't crowded. There were a number of small sailships tied up along the way. One in particular caught her eye, with polished wood and a mast that didn't sway as easily as the others in the ocean breeze. Looking around cautiously, she moved over to the boat and peered in. It had everything, rope, maps, filled satchels, and…

"Ack!"

A sleeping boy. Not sleeping any more, however, the boy leapt to his feet, startled at the sight of a strange woman leering at his boat.

"What-what do you want?" He said, steadying himself inside the vessel.

"Oh, pardon me, sir!" Rita said, thinking on her feet. "I was just…well, looking for a sailor, in fact."

"What for, miss?" The boy began to look suspicious.

Rita took out a fan from her sleeve and flipped it in front of her face.

"Oh, you see…well, it's embarrassing, really," She added a giggle for good measure. "My friend and I, we came in early this morning to visit the market. And wouldn't you know it, our dinghy hit some rocks on the way over. I didn't notice until now, but the thing is practically sunk!"

She gestured to the remains of her boat on the other side of the dock. It did look truly pitiful. Just then, Margret appeared carrying the basket. She gave Rita a confused look before approaching her and the boy.

"Darling," Rita said before she could open her mouth. "It would seem we'll have to find another way back to the ship."

"Oh," Margaret immediately put on a pout. "Oh, dear. What a frightful morning this has been."

"You two don't look like you're from around here," The boy said, not letting his guard down. "This is no place for lasses like yourselves to be spending much time. Least without an escort."

"No, I quite agree!" Margaret gave Rita a light swat on the shoulder. "I told you we should have asked the men to accompany us."

"We so rarely get unsupervised time on our hands," Rita said to the boy with a wink. "Running errands is how we escape."

"And now they're waiting for us!"

"I know, I know. Sir," She looked as desperate as she could. "You're the only sailor I could find, and we're in rather a hurry. Could you please take us out to our ship?"

"I don't see any ships out there…"

"Behind those big rocks. They did anchor far away, the sillies," Margaret shook her head.

The boy looked torn.

"I…I don't know, misses. My master will be back in a few hours, and I'm to stay here with the boat."

"A few hours? You'll be back and forth in a jiffy, no problem at all!" Margaret moved closer to the boy. Rita noticed she arched her back, causing her already pushed-up chest to protrude even more. "Please? You'd be our hero."

The boy took one last nervous glance at the mainland, then back at the two girls. Then, he stood aside and held out his hand to help them aboard.

"Thank you!" They exclaimed. Margaret even blessed him with a kiss on the cheek.

In a moment, they were off. Rita had missed being on the water, and in a boat that could take on real waves. She and Margret had been rowing their way through their transactions for the past month, which hadn't been good both for business and their arms.

"What ye get from the market?" The boy suddenly asked, pointing to the basket.

"Oh, just plenty of fruit," Margaret said.

"Would you like one?" Rita asked, much to the chagrin of her friend. Her daredevil behavior often was the cause of quarrels between them.

"No, thank you, miss. You better save that for your hungry fellows," The boy said.

"Suit yourself," Rita said, fanning herself delicately. Margaret shot her a mutinous look.

Rita only tempted the fates in good measure. It was part of her job to be honest and natural so that the lies would be more easily believed. This was a trick her friend was not at all fond of, but they hadn't been hung yet.

Soon, they were approaching the rocks behind which their "ship" was to lie. The girls looked at one another.

"We really can't thank you enough, sir," Margaret said genuinely.

"You've been awfully kind," Rita agreed.

"Sure, ladies. Now, your ship should be coming round the corner in just a-"

In the moment he'd looked away, both women had cocked their pistols and aimed them at the boy's head. He froze. Rita thought he rather looked like a puffer fish, the way his mouth hung agape.

"You can swim, can't you?" Margaret asked as though she was making polite conversation. The boy nodded.

"Great! I'd start now, then."

"I can't let you take-"

BANG! A bullet erupted from Margaret's pistol and landed cleanly in the water just outside the boat.

"That warning was my thank-you gift," She said coldly. "Now I don't owe you anything. And we never miss a shot."

Without another argument, the boy dove off the side and began swimming at full speed back towards the island.

"What a nice young man," Margaret said, sitting down and twirling her pistol. "You remember how to sail, Rita?"

Rita smirked. She was already retying the boy's poorly crafted knots.

"I'll head behind the rocks for some cover. Someone might have heard the gun," She said.

"Not likely, we're at least a mile off the mainland, and got about an hour before the boy reaches shore," Margaret was already pillaging what the boy had left aboard. "This feels nice. We deserve a real boat. You did good."

"Nah, I only got him warmed up for you," Rita smiled.

"Please, you're possessed with grace. I don't have years of propriety training like you do."

It annoyed Rita to be reminded, even slightly, of the life she'd had to leave behind. Both she and Margaret had been born in England, but whereas Margaret was a stowaway crossing over, Rita had had a family. A well-to-do family, with whom she'd had nothing in common. When she was eight, her parents were imprisoned. Abandoned and mistreated by the relatives that took her in, she was soon swept into the rewarding life of crime.

"I did miss sailing," She sighed against the tiny wheel that made her think of larger, grander ships.

"Admittedly, the dinghy was better for the 'two girls on a picnic' bit. But we'll manage."

"Thank you." Rita said suddenly.

"What for?"

"For going along with my plan. We just…I mean, we just stole a boat."

Margaret laughed and Rita felt her cheeks grow hot. She'd never done anything like this before, and it seemed momentous. Of course to her friend, with thievery in her blood, it would be second nature.

"We're not exactly in the most lawful of trades as it is. Did you think I was going to scold you?" Margaret teased.

Rita allowed herself to laugh at this. Glancing at the map Margret and rolled out, she steered the boat back on course.

"We got everything, then?" She said.

"It's all here."

"Right, then. Bring me that horizon."

"Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum."