A/N I don't really know if this one will be something anyone will want to read. It's kind of Mary Sue-ish, but it's something in response to what I heard someone say or something someone wrote. Can't remember which.

Disclaimer: Nope… none of the characters mine, even the barmaid. Story is built on the ones Disney sanctioned. Other than that…

Once More Around, My Friend

Chapter 1: Reunion

The Faithful Bryde was full again with rowdy sailors and pirates, all having landed at the evening's high tide, wishing to fuel their bellies and deaden their senses by emptying their coinpurses of their newly acquired pay. She waded through the sea of unwashed bodies, all eager to grasp at the tankards that were sloshing on the tray she held over their heads.

"Get yer refills at the bar, lads!" she bellowed to the greedy men. "These are bought and paid fer by gentlemen far better than the likes o' ye!" For her bulk, her dance between the tables was well practiced and graceful as she wended her way towards the more shadowy recesses of the tavern with her cargo.

"All the more reason to pillage ye of it," answered a gruff voice near her as, once again, she smacked a dirty hand away from her ample waist. She glared at the offending scallywag, but pressed on towards her goal.

Three figures sat around the table in the back, two with large hats still perched on their heads, with a much more subdued hatless one in between. The two captains stared stonily at each other, waiting for the other to back down. The one in the middle raked a hand nervously through his mutton chops, eyes skittering about as he watched for her to return to the table. As he noticed her approach, they lit up in anticipation. His hands became talons as he swooped in on his tankard as a bird of prey on its target.

"Thank ye kindly, lass. Ye've saved me life," he declared dramatically as he tilted his head back to quaff his ale. The younger captain rolled his eyes towards his current first mate briefly before returning his gaze to that of his former one. The older scarred face smirked as if in triumph, but she was unclear as to what he had gained in the interchange. The younger, and clearly more handsome, albeit grimy one, had not appeared as if he had lost anything. She shook her head and snorted at the men.

"All of ye act like ye were still challengin' each other atop a mound o' dirt with wooden swords," she barked at the two pirates as they eyed each other. She slammed the remaining two tankards down in front of the contenders, soaking the hands of the younger one who finally turned and acknowledged her presence with an annoyed glare. He brusquely wiped off the frothy drink off as the other sneered at her.

"Firstly, the object o' contention is far more than a mere mound o' dirt, missy," he drawled in his thick Irish brogue. "Secondly, it could prove a mite dangerous for ye to stick yer nose into business which does not concern ye." His green eyes bored pointedly into her own, as he reached to tip back his ale.

"And I'll have ye remember that 'tis my tavern ye be frequentin', so if ye don't mind, that'll be enough of yer threats." She cocked her own arms akimbo to her sides, and gestured briefly back at a couple of burly gents that were bellied up to the bar, nursing drinks that hadn't been refilled for an hour or two. At her movement one man looked up from his drink and stepped away from the bar, apparently waiting for further orders.

The younger pirate, although not young by any means, suddenly cocked his head back in a laugh, his kohl rimmed eyes widened in mirth. "Seems as if ye've found yer own crew to command, Bell," he grinned. She smiled back at her childhood friend.

"Aye, Jack, that I have." She waved the bouncer back to the bar and seated herself next to the strange little giant she had known for years. She glanced at him, carefully hiding the concern she felt from showing on her face. He had known that she had taken over ownership from her deceased uncle who had inherited the tavern from her father. It seemed that although he was still the man she knew from before his battle with Davy Jones's terrible beastie, he had forgotten some things, some things that he would not have normally considered unimportant. And there was little that Jack had considered unimportant. She raised her tankard to clunk against his extended one, and grinned back at his devilish expression.

"I miss this town," he said softly as he glanced around, drinking in the cacophony of noise and scents with his ale.

"And you say the same thing about the sea as soon as you start getting your land legs," she reminded him. She knew the sea and his ship, The Black Pearl, were the two things that pleased him, the two women that worked in tandem with each other to fill his heart leaving no room for any other. Or at least they used to. Rumor had it that another, much younger female had captured his eye, his desires. She saw no sign of any such female, but from what she understood, the damsel in question had a predilection for wearing men's clothing. Many of the young boys in the room could have been her in disguise as far as she knew. She was not in the habit of testing each one to find out if they were boys or not; although with the attention she seemed to be getting lately from the younger crowd, she was fairly certain that there would not be much argument if she had started doing so.

"So, the two of ye are still contestin' ownership of the 'Pearl," she reasoned. Jack's jaw tightened with the mention of his beloved ship. His former first mate, Barbossa, glared at the barmaid in disgust. Although he was still one for tasting all the pleasures he could out of life, after ten years of walking about in a living death, he found nosy rotund women an anathema, especially those who had befriended a prissy do-gooder of a pirate like Jack. She shook back her thick graying hair, and sneered back at the crusty coot. Despite his revulsion with her, she still admired him for his stamina. He had certainly gone through much, but her philosophy was that if one lives like a pirate, one must die, and apparently, in this case, be resurrected, as a pirate. She never expected that he would be anything but, regardless what Jack had told her about Barbossa. He may have been instrumental in the saving of said friend, but he still had ulterior motives, as any pirate does.

"Once again, I be remindin' ye to mind to yer own affairs," he snarled, glaring at her bouncers openly, obviously not worried about her earlier promise. "There be plenty of dark and hidden corners in this town where ye can be findin' misfortune waitin' for ye." With that, he scraped his chair back as he rose, and strode to the door, apparently either heading back to the ship, or to a more welcoming establishment.

"Not that that threat is something that I've never heard afore," she shot at his back as he left.

"Oh, now that made sense," she heard mumbled beside her. She shot Jack a dark look, and noticed his quiet signal to Gibbs to follow the formerly dead pirate captain. The first mate's brow furrowed in the beginnings of a pout, and Jack gestured more frantically to get him moving. Gibbs reluctantly got up, polished off the rest of his tankard, and scurried out the door muttering to himself about some bad omen or sign of bad luck, probably dealing with following the walking dead. She couldn't believe how much he could come up with when it came to legends and myths and the curses bestowed on those who broke the unwritten codes of the sea.

Jack's fingernails clinked in random cadence on his tankard, while the barmaid sat quietly waiting for an explanation. Deciding that she was going to get none from him at the moment, she stood, hips swaying as she pushed the chair in to avoid from having some drunken patron attack it for getting in his way. Jack's dark gaze watched her idly as she set about clearing the table of the empty drinking vessels and mopping up the spills with the rag she kept tucked in the strings of her apron. She tugged on a bangle in his hair as she passed by him, recognizing it as one fashioned from a coin he had picked up on one of their earlier journeys during their adolescent years. They both grinned at each other, recalling the adventure.

"I don't only miss the town, luv," he confessed as he grabbed her about her waist and gently perched her on his lap. She grimaced, hoping that the stool would hold both of them. He caught the look and chucked her under the chin, letting her know what he thought of her self-doubt. "Enough of that, darlin'. Have a little faith in ol' Jack." She sighed and gave him a slight squeeze before lifting herself up and starting to rub the table down vigorously. He watched for a few seconds before laying his palm down on the back of her hand and gazing up at her.

"I believe it's time we had a little talk" he said softly.