Disclaimer: Characters used solely for entertainment, nothing more nothing less. Get over it.

A/N: This is a continuance of Damned to the Depths- the missing link to the outcome of the story, meaning, if you have not read DttD first, it might be a bit confusing, might not. It was meant to be a one shot, but after writing it- well, being just one was unacceptable. So enjoy.

One More Chance

By: J.L.Dexter

Rating: PG (seems harmless enough)

Part 1 - Gilbert Brady, M.D.

The wind picked up as he hurried down the dimly lit street, his free hand clutching his cloak closer to him. It was late; he should have been home before the sunset, but was caught up in the day's work, unable to escape. He had silently hoped things would calm down and slack off, but with the constant battle's going on not only outside the town, but in as well, it seemed his wish was far from being answered.

For Gilbert Brady, a day in the life of a doctor was anything but calm. People came to him everyday for this or that- ailments, medicines, information. He rolled his eyes, and gossip. His office was known to be the center of the local gossip, simply because anything and everything that went on in town, passed through the ears of the doctor.

It was his job- one he once enjoyed doing. Now his fervor for it had dwindled greatly since the loss of his own wife during childbirth- an event he blamed himself for because he had been unable to save her. Had it not been for the fact that the next closest doctor was a port away, he'd have hung up his coat and bag long ago.

He was also a man not easily intimidated by death, for all forms of it had crossed his way. With the raging wars, innocent accidents and tavern brawls, Gill Brady had seen it all.

He pulled his coat and shawl closer as a harsh wind blew, the cold bitterness nipping at his exposed face. He clutched his medical bag in his free hand with his other holding his coat tightly closed as he pressed on toward home. The soft glow of candles was present in a few homes, signs of how late it really had gotten. A sense of guilt washed over him at the fact; he had promised his son they'd go down to the docks to watch as the fisherman came in from their day's tasks.

Now as he trudged home, he knew that his promise had been broken and though he had every intention of keeping it, he was afraid his son would see it otherwise. Gill had tried everything he could to make up for the death of his wife by being there for his son, but times got hard and money was tight; things were just not in favor for the Brady family.

Crossing a street, he stopped to peer up at a large white house that sat upon a hill. The wealthiest man this side of England was said to live there, and on rare occasion Gill had passed him on the streets several times, the haughty expression on the old man's face enough to make any man's skin crawl with hatred.

Gill sneered in disgust as he continued his way home, his mind set on seeing his son before it got too late. Turning a corner, he could have sworn he saw a shadow dart across the street and into an alleyway that led to the 'poor' side of the town. Thinking it nothing more than a possible drunk racing home to spare himself the wrath of an angry wife, Gill walked on.

He could see a soft glow coming from the last house on the street, a sure sign that his son was still awake and waiting for him. He let his lips curl into a smile as he picked up his pace, his hands and feet numb with cold. Through the wind, Gill thought he heard a muffled pop, a sound much like that of a firing pistol and he stopped, straining to hear through the cold gusts.

When he heard nothing but silence, he shrugged it off and headed on, shaking his head. Perhaps the cold was getting to him for he was hearing things, or maybe he was overly exhausted; yes, that had to have been it he thought for his day had been very hectic. Tipping his head in satisfaction of the musing, he shuffled forward, intent on getting home out of the cold wind.

He had only walked a few paces when once again he heard another pop, strangely louder than the first and followed by a third. Now he knew it wasn't his imagination, for the noises had come not once but three times, each the same only louder. Knowing he should ignore the business of another's affairs and get home, his curiosity won out as he turned up the path of an old, run down house.

Through the dust covered pane of a broken window, he could make out the yellow glow of a candle, the light striking a sensation of fear in him; there had not been anyone in that house for years now!

The front door swung open heavily in the wind, banging on its frame with each gust. He cautiously stepped through the door, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Making sure the coast was clear, he made his way across the room, the dim light from the open door casting shadows on the floor and walls. The door opened with a creak as he poked his head inside to take a look, his gaze resting on a set of stairs.

His eyes traveled downward, following the steps until his stare fell upon a man lying in a twisted angle at the foot of the stairs, his shirt stained in blood. Gill sucked in a breath at the sight, his mind torn between rushing to help him or running from whatever, no whomever had done this.

His fear won out and he turned to go when a soft murmuring stopped him. Listening, he could hear muffled voices, two maybe three at the most, one distinctively a man's.

"…gonna pull through, just hang on."

Gill stood frozen in the doorway, listening. In the silence he could hear the ragged breathing of someone else, the rattle in their throat reaching his ears. Cursing himself, he spun around and opened the door, his numb feet carrying him down the steps unaware of what he was getting himself into.

---

Jack held Ana's limp body close- his own rocking back and forth. He buried his face in her neck, his arms wrapped around her tightly. He refused to let himself cry, but the wetness on his cheeks was proof that he had failed. All was silent save for his muffled whispers, the deafening quiet chilling him to the bone.

A sudden creak made Jack spin around, his hand instinctively grabbing for his pistol. He frowned, his hand steady as he aimed at a figure on the stairs. Cocking the pistol, he said, "I'd suggest that ye not take another step."

Jack peered the short distance at the man, his eyes narrowing. He was a bit younger than the captain, tall, and a bit on the stocky side with broad shoulders. Week old stubble lined his tanned face as his black eyes held the pirate captain's gaze with fear and interest.

The man raised his hands in surrender, "Hold on there. I don't know who you are, or what happened here, but I mean no harm. So just put the gun away," Gill coaxed.

"Who are ye?"

Gill frowned. "Names Gilbert Brady."

"Ye one of Derrick's men?"

Knotting his brow, Gill shook his head no. "Afraid not. I'm just the doctor."

With the words, the pistol was suddenly pulled away and forgotten as Jack motioned for him to come closer. Gill hesitated, stopping before the crumpled man at the foot of the stairs, his dark eyes clouding.

"He's dead," Jack announced drawing the doctor from his thoughts.

Gill looked at him. "Yes, I know." He moved closer at Jack's beckoning and held his breath as his gaze took in the scene.

A young woman lay limply in Jack's arms, blood pooling around her body. Her dark hair was matted with sweat, and though she had a dark complexion, Gill could clearly see the wanness in her face. He knelt down, pressing a finger to her neck as he proclaimed, "She's still breathing."

Jack's head came up, his brow creasing in surprise. "She is?"

Gill nodded. "She is, but barely," his skilled hands traced over the wound in her side, a frown covering his features.

"What?"

"We need to move fast if we are to try and save her," Gill started, but found himself cut off, the cold feel of a sword at his neck.

Jack glared at him. "There is no try, savvy? Either ye save her, or die with her."

Gill swallowed hard as he nodded. "I'll do what I can," he approached, his hand silencing another one of Jack's threats. "I am not God, nor am I miracle worker, sir. I am a Doctor and even then, my abilities are limited. Savvy?"

Jack sheathed his sword after a moment, a shake of his head in answer. Even trying to save her was better than just letting her die he thought. "Savvy."

---

Gill led Jack through the dark, his gaze stopping to check on the pirate every so often. The young woman in his arms had stirred only once, but even then it was brief and she had said nothing. As Gill ushered the pirate captain up the walk to his house, he felt an even bigger pang of regret for the man, his own memory of his wife dying refreshing itself in his mind.

Closing the door behind them, Gill tugged off his coat and tossed it down as the sound of footsteps greeted him followed by a call.

"Father, you're hom-" a young boy came to a stop in the hall, his sentence breaking off as he saw Jack.

Gill spun him around and pushed him in another direction as he ordered, "Miles, boil me some hot water and bring all the old towels that you can find. Go on now, hurry."

The boy ran off to do as told as Gill directed Jack to a side room. "Lay her on the table," he instructed as he set the black bag he'd been carrying down, his hand rummaging inside. He laid several objects on the wood surface, each new item making Jack frown.

The young boy soon returned with a stack of towels in his arms. "Here you are, father."

"Thank you Miles, the water?"

"Coming sir," Miles answered meekly as he stole a glance at Jack before disappearing again.

Gill reached over and handed Jack a knife, the look on the pirate's face one of confusion. "Her jacket, take it off and then cut her shirt," he stopped and ran a finger along a shirt seam, "along this seam."

Lost and confused, Jack did as Gill had said, his tan face motionless as he rid Ana of her jacket and shirt. A look of disgust formed on his features at the woman's exposed flesh in the eyes of another, but his expression quickly dissolved as Gill covered her with one of the towels, a comforting smile from the doctor calming the pirate.

Soon Gill was finished preparing his tools, the water was done boiling, and the grueling task of removing the bullet from Ana's chest could begin.

---

And cut- the end of segment one, the ab initio of two soon to come. Thanks to Jackfan2 for re-reading this and trying, worth all her salt, to speed the posting up.

-J