Author's Note: It's been a while, but I started writing fanfiction again. While all my previous works were Downton/Chelsie related, this one is a bit of an adventure with me diving into Pirates of the Caribbean. Dead Men Tale no Tales turned me into complete Barbossa trash all over again, so I started this project. It's an AU in which Margaret Smyth is part of the story from the start of the first movie and involved in all events that followed. I refer to her mostly as Mary, because it's short. Not the typical nickname for Margaret, I know, but I can hardly call her Maggie (thanks to the last name) and I don't really like the other usual options. PotC doesn't have the clearest of timelines, but with PotC 4 set in 1750 and PotC set about five years later, this story begins in 1730 with the Curse of the Black Pearl. Since there is hardly any information given about Margaret, I can only write her in a rather OC style. In any case, I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

Chapter 1

The Pirate That Should Not Be

The British Navy and their cursed drums, Mary thought as the soldiers hammered away on the instruments, the drum roll almost mocking her as the executioner put the rope around her neck. Aye, a hanging was as good an entertainment if not a better one than the theatre, but she believed it to be hardly necessary to add music to the spectacle. What was it they wanted to achieve? Raise the tension? Add more drama? She for one was tense enough at the prospect of being hanged and the idea of having to jiggle to the British Navy's amusement in front of an angry mob chanting pirate seemed quite enough drama as well.

"Aren't you going to bind my hands?", she asked the bull of an executioner who had his face covered with a ridiculous leather mask. It was probably meant to make him scarier in appearance, but she found that the scary part about this execution wasn't the executioner, but the fact that the gallows had a date with her on this sunny afternoon.

"You're going to dance more enthusiastically with your hands free", the executioner explained with a sadistic grin that send a shiver down her spine.

"How kind – I like myself a proper dance", Mary replied, not willing to give up the roguish arrogance she should have as a proper pirate. Had she known two years ago that saving her own neck by joining a pirate crew would lead to this massive amount of trouble, she might have chosen differently. But given that her mind had been quite distracted by the sight of undead skeleton pirates, she couldn't really find it in her to blame her past self for being in this situation.

The cursed crew of the Black Pearl had spared her in exchange for her help to lift their curse. As it were, a mortal pirate was quite useful at collecting pieces of Aztec gold undetected. Not that the crew couldn't have gotten the gold back themselves, after all, they couldn't die and tended to march in carelessly everywhere, taking what they wanted, but that seemed to be the problem. They had become careless and that wouldn't do them any good once the curse was lifted. Captain Barbossa wouldn't want to see his crew forget entirely what it meant to live and Mary helped him remind them. Whenever she ate or drank as she had to, the crew would stare her to the ground in lust. Before she had understood the curse properly, she had thought of it as sexual lust, but soon she came to realise that they had become desperate for food and drink more than anything else. So she reminded them of the simple pleasures. An uncomfortable task, but a cheap price for her life. And after a few odd adventures and successful missions to retrieve their cursed gold, she had even earned herself a place amongst them. Therefore it shouldn't have surprised Mary all too much when they crashed her execution.

"That be our comrade yer tryin' to hang there, mate", Captain Barbossa shouted from across the market place where he stood on a barrel to be sure of everyone's attention, surrounded by most of his crew that had their weapons ready and bloodthirsty grins on their faces.

"Who are you?", one of the higher ranking soldiers demanded to know. He could have been a lieutenant, but Mary's knowledge of ranks and uniforms of the navy had rusted a bit.

"I'd be the Captain of that pirate there and I'd like him back!", he replied, drawing his fancy flintlock pistol and blowing a hole into the soldier's chest. "Let's take back what is ours, lads!", he ordered and all hell broke loose. The angry mob wasn't so much angry anymore, but began to run around in panic while the soldiers were overwhelmed by the undead pirates. Now all Mary could do was wait until they reached the gallows and cut her free, but the executioner didn't seem to be the patient type. "I'll be having my boots today!", he grumbled angrily and pulled the lever. Her eyes widened in shock as the ground underneath her feet opened up and she fell. Luckily for her, the fall wasn't deep and spared her neck. With her free hands she grabbed the rope that began to cut into her flesh and tried to pull at it, in an attempt to loosen its deadly grip on her. It got harder to breathe and then someone grabbed her legs and she found herself standing on her Captain's shoulders, his hands on her shins to steady her. "I know I'm a bad dancer, but that ye would choose the gallows for a partner over me", he joked, looking up at her with a grin, revealing the odd mix of brown, silver and golden teeth.

"Not funny", Mary gasped, still pulling at the rope.

"Proper rope, that one, aye?", he asked.

"What else would it be?" She felt him shrug, almost losing her balance on his shoulders. "I'll be needing my neck, Capt'n", she scolded.

"I'll be needin' me hands", he replied.

"What fo…? Oh", she said, spotting three approaching soldiers with drawn swords. Before she could even think the word parlay, she found herself hanging once again with Barbossa fighting off the Redcoats. This time it felt worse, as if her neck had been softened up earlier and was now easier to crush for the rope. "Captain!", she shouted, using her last remaining strength to get the word out. Barbossa kicked one soldier between the legs, sending him to the ground with a pathetic whimper, smashing his fist into a second one's face and pulling his gun, pointing it at the rope. But he had already used his bullet on the lieutenant and therefore the weapon didn't fire. Mary heard him curse under his breath, her vision slowly blurring due to the lack of air. The process of reloading seemed to take an eternity, although Barbossa's hands were fast and skilled. Once again he pointed the gun at the rope, but was distracted by a sword being slammed through him. The impact of the blade forced him to take a step forward. Ignoring it, he shot. Mary felt the bullet fly through the rope, weakening it enough to not be able to hold her weight any longer and finally rip, giving her free as she fell to the ground. She coughed, her throat hurting as she took deep breaths. Mary looked up at her Captain who was looking back at her concerned, still ignoring the blade sticking through him. Or maybe he had forgotten it was there. The soldier had been staring at Barbossa in disbelief, blinking a few times as if to make sure that he was indeed seeing a man standing upright despite a sword cutting through him. Then he looked at Mary, as she got up. His eyes widened even more. "The pirate's a woman!", he exclaimed, reminding Barbossa of his presence who stepped away from him so that the blade slid back out. "My turn", the pirate announced, stabbing the soldier. "Let's get back to the ship", he said.

"Not so fast", Mary replied, picking up a sword. "Two things I still have to do."

He rolled his ocean blue eyes at her. "Fine then." She walked back up the steps of the gallows, finding Pintel and Ragetti dueling the executioner who had a massive axe that seemed to impress them despite their cursed state. "You have something that belongs to us", Mary told him. "We'd like it back."

"Filthy pirates! You will all hang!"

"Would be the longest dance in the history of hanging with that lot", she commented. "Give it back or do I have to come and take it?"

"You're a pirate and a woman", he said, as if these two facts were putting him at an advantage.

"Whatever you say", she shrugged, taking Pintel's pistol.

"That's cheating!", the executioner exclaimed.

Mary gave him a triumphant smile. "Pirate!" Bang. He dropped to the floor, dead. Ragetti searched him, finding the piece of Aztec gold in the executioner's pocket.

Back on the ship, Mary sat in the pity excuse of a caboose that served no purpose anymore with a crew that had no need for food. She was the only reason it hadn't been neglected entirely. The nasty cut and bruise around her neck required some sort of medical attention. A wet cloth soothed the throbbing pain, allowing her to lean back and relax for a moment. "Would ye care to explain why we had to rescue ye today?" She opened her eyes, looking at her Captain who had a displeased look on his face and had his arms crossed over his chest. "The executioner caught me when I broke into his house to get the gold and didn't take him much to figure out that I'm a pirate."

"Doesn't usually happen to ye."

"No, which is why you send me."

"Aye, but ye weren't supposed to get caught!"

"I know. I've learned my lesson", she snapped, revealing her injured neck and throat.

Barbossa sighed and sat down next to her, taking the cloth from her hands to carefully wash the dried blood away.

"You would have died today if it weren't for the curse", she said.

"I wouldn't have wasted me bullet if I weren't cursed."

"But you would have risked your life and crew saving one pirate's neck?"

"Yer not any pirate", he replied. She was silent at that, until he moved his hand and his nails scratched her neck painfully. "Ah!", she exclaimed, shifting away from him. He held his hands up apologetically. "I don't feel anythin'."

"I know, but I do. You have sharp nails", she explained, taking the cloth from him and tending to her wound herself.

He eyed his nails for a moment, before he shrugged and leaned back, watching Mary.

"You know, for someone who doesn't feel, you seem to have an impressive amount of emotions", she said pensively.

He sneered. "I know how I should feel and act accordingly." He leaned closer. "I know I care about ye."

"And you act accordingly."

"Aye." He took her hand. "Warm or cold?", he asked.

"My hands are warm." She watched him smile sadly as he guided her hand to his chest where he placed it above his silent heart. "Warm or cold?", he asked again, this time meaning himself.

"Cool", she replied.

"Like a dead man", he added bitterly.

Shaking her head, Mary raised her other hand to rest against his rough cheek. "Cool like someone who needs to be saved from floating in the depths of the ocean for too long."

He studied her for a moment. "I'm plannin' on havin' dinner with ye once the curse is lifted."

"Dinner meaning a bunch of green apples", she teased.

"Aye."

"Nothing else?", she asked, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"Only what ye consent to", he replied meaningfully.

She leaned in and dropped a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling her heart sink at his sad smile at not being able to feel her warmth. "How many pieces are missing?", she asked with an increased determination to break the curse.

"Just one", he replied.

"Any idea where it is?"

"It's calling to us. Port Royal." He leaned his forehead against hers. "I'll be sendin' the lads in."

"Then you will be having that dinner with me", she said happily.

"Perhaps", he said, more to himself than to her.

She frowned. "You're not making sense to me now, Captain."

"Blood must be repaid", he said.

"And you did repay it."

"I never told ye about Bootstrap, Bill Turner."

Mary leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest and raising one eyebrow questioningly. She had a feeling she wouldn't like what he was about to tell her. And she was right. "Have you never tried to walk to the bottom of the ocean and get him back up?", she shouted.

"Of course we have. But he was gone."

"Brilliant", she muttered through gritted teeth. "That's just brilliant. I've risked my life now for two years, trying to help you break the curse - for the longer part of that time, because I care about you. I care about you more than I probably should. And now - NOW! -, after two bloody years, you tell me it was all for nothing if we can't find Turner's blood." She was panting after this emotional outbreak.

"Yer behaving like yer cursed. I'm the one doomed if I can't find Turner or his child."

"I may not be cursed to be undead, Captain Barbossa, but cursed to love a man who thinks he cares about me, unable to tell if it's true, 'cause he can't bloody feel." Hot tears were stinging in her eyes, her hands were shaking in fury. She made a sound that could have passed for a growl and marched towards the door.

"Where are ye goin'?", Barbossa demanded to know.

"I need sleep", she spat, smashing the door behind her, almost running the length of the ship to the small corner where she had her hammock. She slept fine, thanks to her exhaustion.

A few hours later she began to wake, blinking sleepily, identifying the full moon as the one disturbing her sleep. Her vision still blurry and her mind still mostly asleep, Mary turned her head, her gaze falling upon a figure. It was a skeleton and for a moment she didn't remember the curse and jolted upwards, one hand searching for her sword, not finding it. Instead, she had caused the hammock to swing wildly and lost her balance, falling out of it and crashing onto the floor. "Bloody hell", she muttered under her breath, rubbing the back of her head.

"Need a hand?", Barbossa asked, offering a skeleton hand to her.

Mary glared at him, ignoring the hand and getting up on her own. "Am I not angry enough with you already?"

"Wanted to let ye know that we'll be arrivin' in Port Royal soon", he said coldly.

"All hands on deck, I assume?"

"Aye", he replied. She grabbed her sword and made way for the stairs.

"Margaret", Barbossa called after her, making her stop dead in her tracks. He had only said her name once before now. Then she had been drowning, thrown overboard by a raging storm. He had jumped after her, getting her out and while she had been coughing up what felt like half the ocean, he had been holding her protectively, whispering in her ear. You'll be all right, Margaret. I'm here. I'll look after you. She turned to face him. He walked over to her, his walk less arrogant and confident than usual. "I'm sorry", he said and he meant it. She lowered her gaze, taking a steadying breath. Her eyes found his. "We'll lift this curse, together", she whispered, surprised when he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Margaret", he breathed into her ear.

"What for?", she whispered back.

"Just thank you", he repeated and let go of her. She understood what he was trying to say. He was trying to say that he loved her, because he knew it to be true, curse or no curse. "After you, Captain", she said, following him on deck where he stood next to the helm, using his spyglass to make out Port Royal in the distance. Fog moved in with the Pearl that moved silently through the waves like a ghost ship with all guns loaded and ready to fire.