Chapter One

Disclaimer – I don't own POTC. Not mine, nuh-uh. I do own Belle and the plot line, I reckon.

I'm baaaaaaack! It turns out that I can't stay away from POTC for long at all. The first sentence of this popped into my head about two hours ago and I wrote it down. This is just the first taster chapter to see what you think. It's before CotBP so it'll be my own plot line this time. Please tell me what you think!

I first met Jack Sparrow when I was eleven years old. It was brief, fleeting and annoying. He was slightly older than me, around fourteen at the time. He had chocolate brown eyes that showed daring and mischief and he also had dreadlocks. There was a red bandana tied around his head in an extremely tight knot that made me wonder if he ever took it off.

"Jack Sparrow, love. And you are?" he asked roguishly. I wondered why he was so flirtatious towards me when I was eleven and I wasn't a pretty child. It was just strange. I raised a single eyebrow slightly and looked into his eyes.

"I'm Belle," I answered and turned to walk away but I heard him snort. I knew why he was snorting. It was common knowledge that Belle meant beautiful and I most certainly was not. I was scrawny, with no shape or figure. I had pale skin, far too pale for someone who spent their entire life on a ship in the sun with a smattering of freckles across my cheeks which was humiliating to say the least. I wasn't very tall (actually, I was rather short. I came to about Jack's chest level and that was ridiculous, even with the age difference). My hair a strange reddish colour, but not the rich red/orange colour that some lucky people had, mine was a faded red as though it couldn't decide between red or blonde and it was as thin as hair can be without me being bald.

"I'll believe that when I see it," he laughed and I rolled my eyes, not bothering to turn around and acknowledge his statement. I walked up to my father, Joseph Roberts, and waited for him to finish talking to some man with large sideburns and a leather flask. It wasn't a very piratey name but it was better than some. My father handed over a bag of money.

"Aye, that'll 'bout do it," the man said and my father nodded, taking my hand and leading me to the ship. I looked over my shoulder and saw Jack bloody Sparrow smirking at me. I stuck my tongue out and turned around, not looking back at him.

That was thirteen years ago. I hadn't seen him since, not that I wanted to but I had heard the stories. He had taken over the Black Pearl and, from what I heard, pillaged just about every port in existence. On the night that his crew appeared in my current port (I couldn't tell you the name if you asked me. It was just somewhere to live), I tried to sneak out but it didn't work. I knew they were pirates and, being a pirate myself, I didn't care about what they were doing. All I cared about was getting out of the bar before I was mistaken for a whore. I skirted through little alleys and through tiny gaps between houses all for it to backfire when I found a pistol directed straight in the middle of my forehead. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"That's not what you want," I complained slightly and moved my eyes passed the gun to see the man holding it and almost toppled over. Reigning in my shock, I looked at the man who had changed so much since I had first met him at fourteen years old. He still wore the red bandana and he was frowning at me, looking me over curiously.

"You look familiar, love, have I threatened you before?" he asked and I debated whether or not to tell him. He was different, clearly, but he was still recognisable. I clearly wasn't and that's what I glorified in. My hair had finally decided what colour it was, settling on a golden blonde with a slight red glow in the sun and it was thicker with waves, stuck in between curls and straight which was slightly annoying. My skin didn't make me look like the walking dead and was a healthy tanned colour although my freckles remained. I had filled out so that I actually looked like a woman and not a twig. I wore brown breeches with heeled leather boots that had fancy silver buckles (I may have stolen them). My top was off the shoulders and was tightened with an emerald green sash around the waist.

"Who are you?" I demanded in what I hoped to be a harsh tone. I knew who he was but I needed to stall. I didn't want him to know, he didn't need to know.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he answered cockily. Well, it seemed that his ego had inflated since he'd been fourteen. I sighed when I realised that he was expecting an answer and had another internal debate. Should I give him a fake name and be on my merry way? Or should I tell him the truth? I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I did. I looked into his eyes with my grey-green ones and saw him hesitate slightly, as though he recognised me already.

"I'm Belle," I answered quietly but he still heard me. He gaped stupidly at me as I waited for a coherent response (or a response at least). The pistol lowered and he tucked it into his belt. His eyes ran over me, seemingly taking in every aspect of my appearance. He gave a small smile as he looked over my face, as though reminiscing.

"I believe it now," he replied and I made a face. I was hardly beautiful, merely more attractive than I had been at eleven years old although that wasn't hard.

"So it's Captain now?" I asked jokingly. He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, love. Ye should see the Black Pearl," he said and I raised a single eyebrow, watching recognition flash through his eyes once again.

"Why, because I'm not the ugly little girl you met before?" I couldn't help but challenge. He looked slightly put out, like he didn't expect me to argue.

"Nah, because you smell of adventure," he replied confidently. I looked into his eyes, searching for deceit. He was one of the best liars out there, able to talk himself out of anything, which I knew. But anyone who is human can never completely hide lies from their eyes and I had vigilantly paid attention over the years, teaching myself to catch an untruth at a glance. My thorough (and slightly too prolonged) analysis of Jack's pools of chocolate revealed nothing but adventure.

"At least I don't smell of piss and drunks," I said as I shrugged and walked past him towards his beloved ship.

"You smell of that too, love," he said as he walked beside me. I looked up at him but didn't say anything, merely smiling slightly. He mimicked it and led me onto the Black Pearl. She really was beautiful, just like I had always imagined. And I got to stay there. Smiling once more at Jack, I took off to explore whilst the sounds of pillaging and pirate laughter continued from the port.

Jack POV

I watched her go off to explore the Pearl and found myself watching everything she did. I watched the slight swish of her hair, the noticeable movement of her hips as she walked and the bare skin of her shoulders, finding myself captivated. It couldn't be possible that this woman was the silly, mousy girl I'd met thirteen years ago because she was beautiful now. Shaking myself slightly, I swaggered over the helm and watched the port, focusing on every sound, movement and smell coming from it to keep my thoughts drifting to the woman wondering alone on my ship.

Questions? Comments? No flames, I own a fire extinguisher. Actually, I don't. I don't even have water near me at the moment. Please let me know. Love Bianca :) x