A/N: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or Return to Neverland, they belong to Disney. The people in the "news" belong to me. Captain Hipployte de Bouchard was a real pirate captain (in Argentina he's considered a war hero) and the legend about his son is true, his disowned son was my great-great-great grandfather. Barbossa does call Emily "Miss Bouchard" until he she tells him her full name. :-)

Full summary: 25 year old Emily MacDuff always wears a medallion her mother gave her. When people with the same medallions go missing and pirates raid her house and abduct her, Emily knows she has to try to find legendary Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow and return to her own time….But will she be able to resist the adventure on the high seas and the handsome pirate captain whose determined to steal her heart?

"….And with recent updates, three women and one man have gone mysteriously missing. Debra, what do you make out of this strange occurrence?"

I pushed my plastic and wire framed purple glasses up my nose and glanced up at the television. I was down in the dumps, my 'date' for tonight never showed up at the local Italian diner a few blocks away. Instead of dwelling on the date-that-never-happened, I decided to get a head start on my paper about aggression and the two forces behind it: Anger and frustration. I sat curled up on my couch in favorite pajamas: Guitar pants, my Firefly "Real Sci-Fi Fans Wear Brown Coats!" T-shirt, my bunny slippers, and the pirate medallion that had been passed down in my family for years.

The African American woman looked up at the camera, "The story is sad and strange. The three women who went missing – 18 year old Teresa Parker, 22 year old Elaine McDuff, and 48 year old Patricia Marty – and the man, Donovan Franklin aged 25, have disappeared in the past five months. The only thing they had in common was said to be a golden medallion."

I jumped when a sketch of the pirate medallion flashed onto the screen. My hand traveled down to my pendant. Someone was out there killing people for these things, I would have to either wear it under my blouse or put it into a safety deposit box for now on. I wasn't willing to get killed over the blasted thing….No matter how special it was to me.

"We're talking to reporter Sandra Banely live…"

A petite blond woman stood in front of the Oakdale police station. "During the past five months, five individuals have gone missing….their only tie, a medallion with a strange story."

Story? What story? My mother had never told me there was a story about the pendant she had given me before she and dad moved to France five years ago.

The reporter continued as the scenery changed to a museum, where a tall curator stood and pushed up his glasses. I raised my eyebrow. That was one hunky museum curator; so much for the stereotype that museum curators were tall, old, and lanky guys who wore coke-bottle glasses and polka-dotted bow ties.

"I'm here with Curator Matthew Comrick, who says there is a strange story about this medallion, Mr. Comrick?"

Hello Mr. Sexy Pants, I thought to myself with a tiny smirk. 'Matthew' was tall, Native American, with long black hair tied back into a pony tail. His black eyes were intense, mysterious, and enough to make any woman swoon. His body was muscular and his arms were well toned.

"The legend begins in a book that was donated to our museum from Port Royal, Jamaica." The curator held up an old book with blood red leather binding. "This was said to be the journal of a young blacksmith's apprentice. He writes, 'Elizabeth Swann, the Governor's daughter, told me a strange tale today….About a heathen band of pirates on a cursed ship that is recognized by the constant fog that floats around it and the tattered black sails. It is said the ship is cursed by men so evil that Hell itself spat it out and they wander around the seven seas looking for their missing treasure."

I saw the sarcastic smirk on the reporter's face and sneered, obviously she took all legends to be nothing more than silly stories. I ignored her when Mr. Sexy Pants crossed his arms, "So you're saying a bunch of cursed pirates from hundreds of years ago are abducting people in 2011? Doesn't that sound….Out there to you?"

"Tell me, Miss Banely, have you heard Shakespeare's quote, 'There are more things on Heaven and Earth Horatio'? If you have not, I suggest you read Hamlet." His gaze left the reporter and onto the camera, "There is another part of the legend, it is said that the gold whispers the cursed pirates….If there is anyone out there with these gold pieces, I suggest you put them somewhere far from you, but somewhere safe. Whether it's ghosts of the past, thieves, killers, or an insane 'collector' I suggest you be very, very careful. My sister-in-law was Teresa Parker…." The curator's eyes began to glaze over a little and he blinked, "…She vanished in November."

The reporter's sarcastic smirk vanished and she looked as if she wanted to crawl under a rock. "Back…Back to you, Debra and Frank…."

I frowned, that legend did sound awful familiar. Then I remembered that I had read it in a pirate book my father had given me when I was ten years old. The legend had been called: The Curse of the Black Pearl. The full story stated the cursed crew had mutinied the true captain, saving the man from the curse. In turn, the pirate captain, Jack Sparrow, made history with a huge battle between every pirate in the world and the Royal Navy. The pirates had won. The legend finished with an eerie painting of the Black Pearl sailing across the ocean, with the words, To this day, the pirates still search for an end to their curse. It's said anyone who sees the ship will become cursed with a round of bad luck and evil spirits for seven years.

"Well, I'm sleeping with my lamp on tonight," I grumbled as I put down my notebook and stretched. I turned off my TV and the lamps; I checked all the doors and windows and made sure each were tightly shut and locked. Suddenly, I found myself wishing I wasn't a single 25 year old woman. I shook my head, I don't need a man to protect me, I can do that myself. Or so I thought at the time. I climbed into bed after a quick shower and said my evening prayers. I climbed into bed and made sure the dim pink lamp on top of my wicker dresser was on; I shut my eyes and told myself to stop being silly and few asleep a few minutes later.

I woke up hours later at hearing a creak from the two large windows in my bedroom. My eyes opened and my mind immediately flashed to Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, and I almost expected to see Captain Hook's silhouette pushing my windows open. I curled back under my sheets after a long minute of silence – it had to be the house settling; this was an old place, my parents had fixed it up and gave it to me as a 'congratulations future psychologist and by the way we're moving to France' gift. Although my mind kept trying to convince me all was fine, my woman's intuition – that sixth sense every girl an woman had – kept my spine straight, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms were raised, my stomach twisted, my shoulders tensed, my heart pounded, and I knew without a doubt that something was wrong when my leg muscles tightened. I sat up and grabbed my cell phone from my nightstand and called the police.

After telling an officer there was someone in my house I grabbed hold of the baseball bat my father had given me, my glasses, and tucked my phone into my pajama pants' pocket and darted into my closet. My heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through my veins, all part of the fight-or-flight reaction that helped to save a person's life. I struggled to keep my breathing steady and quiet and my stomach twisted when my bedroom door was suddenly flung open and four men walked in.

"She's here somewhere," a man's voice rasped. My eyebrows raised, the accent sounded British. As far as I knew we had no English men in our town.

"Ooh…Ooh…whut about the bathroom?" The tallest and lankiest figure asked softly and kept glancing towards my bathroom. Perv, I thought to myself in disgust. I hoped the cops would get here soon. I really, really wanted to live to be an old lady who had to use a walker and pestered her grandchildren that technology distracted their attention from the simpler and fun things in life. Then again, with a cell phone in my pocket, I wasn't one to talk.

"It's here…I can feel it," the shortest man growled.

"I hear it…" muttered another man. It wasn't until they stepped into the dim lamp light I saw them and my heart skipped a beat. They were all dressed like 18th century pirates. Lordy Lou! Either someone was taking that pirate legend to the extreme or this was real.

"Why do we 'ave to have the girl this time," muttered the fourth man.

"Cause the Cap'n said she's got Pirate's blood. We need 'er, and she'll make good comp'ny afterwards." The short one gave a toothy grin and I grimaced. There was no way in Hell I was going anywhere with these perverted thieves. I froze as the first pirate's question crossed my mind: Why do we have to have a girl this time? Shit! They must have killed the other three women and the one man!

The short one suddenly turned towards my television armoire and I was thankful for the clumsy latch on the thing as the door swung open. I took my chance and bolted out of the closet and swung my baseball bat as if I were the wild woman of Bornio.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I shouted and hit the shorter one, sending him stumbled onto my bed. When the bat hit the tall and lanky one I shrieked when a wooden eye ball popped out and hit me on the forehead, then rolled off under my bed.

"My eye!"

I swallowed as my dinner returned for a visit; I turned and bolted out of my bedroom and towards my patio. If I could get outside and over the neighbor's fence and into their yard I'd have a good chance of surviving. I had almost reached the sliding glass doors when out of nowhere a man's leg popped out and tripped me. I almost fell until a pair of strong arms wrapped around my torso and kept me pinned to the man's body.

"Let go of me you bastard! So help me you won't be a man by the time I'm through with ya!" I swung my fist back towards his leg and struggled harder when nothing happened. Hitting a man's groin, from my experience, sent him falling to the ground howling in pain. Why was this guy not moving? Instead, he laughed and let go of me for a moment, then grabbed my arm and spun me around. I froze as I stared at him; he was a foot taller than me and wore blue trousers, a jacket, two belts, pirate boots, and a huge feathered cap. And, of all things, he had a monkey on his shoulder. A monkey. What happened to a pirate's trusty parrot?

"Well, well," the man rasped with a smirk, "Hello Miss Bouchard, if that be your last name."

My eyes widened at the mention of my great-great-great-great grandfather's name. "You just googled that on the internet –"

"I don't right know what that is, ye see and I really don't care." His yellow-green eyed gaze traveled down from my face to my chest where the medallion hung. "The missing piece," he muttered. "The last piece that was stolen from us by yer grandfather, Cap'n Hippolyte de Bouchard. He thought he was real clever by escapin', he never knew our…current state could help us with our…travels."

"Take the damned thing and let me go!" I shouted as a strand of my bright red hair hung in my face. "I swear, I won't tell anyone that you were here. When the police arrive –"

"Ah, so that was the man tryin' to come into the house."

I paled, "What did you do?"

"What do ye think we did, lass?"

Dear God in Heaven, they killed him. The pirate gave a satisfied smirk when I realized the poor officer's fate.

"Ye know lass, we wouldn' have come here at all if it weren't for yer grandfather. If he hadn't thought it to be funny by takin' this piece of treasure and sailin' off with it before we could catch him, ye'd be safe and sound. But an eye for an eye. Or in this case, a coin for a girl." The pirate pushed my hair behind my shoulder, "Yer much prettier than he is. Pintel, Ragetti!" He shouted, I realized the four pirates were standing in the room with us. "Meet Cap'n Bouchard's granddaughter….Now we best be goin' before the moon comes out."

"What's so terrifying about the moon?"

"Trust me, lass, ye really don't want to know," the pirate smirked. "I'm Captain Barbossa, and if ye're smart, I suggest ye do what I say. I trust yer smart enough to know me and m'crew are capable of."

The short and hefty pirate, Pintel, opened my sliding glass door and Barbossa pulled me out onto my front lawn. I felt tears raise in my eyes as we walked towards the road. Only ten more minutes and we'd reach the river. Suddenly I wished I lived farther inland, away from all oceans and rivers. "Please, let me go. I'll give you the coin and I apologize for my grandfather, he was a real ass." The legend that went down in my family was that my great-great-great grandfather was Hippolyte's son. No one knew his real name; according to the story he was told if he ever defied his father in any way – especially by leaving his mother and baby sister – he would be disowned. And if Hippolyte ever found his son, he'd kill him; my great grandfather escaped when Bouchard was out attacking the California coast, he managed to get onto a merchant ship that was going to Quebec, Canada and he settled down in a small town filled with people named Bouchard. Only he changed his first name to Medard. I had forgotten the last name he had taken, I knew it was a long French name that had something to do with freedom.

"Ye think I care for yer apologies lass? Yer grandfather did us a favor," Barbossa smirked. "He gave us a woman, a coin, and a person with pirate's blood." We stopped along the river bank and I paused, I didn't see any boats. As if reading my mind, the pirate captain shoved me forward, I shrieked as I stumbled and landed on the deck of an old ship with tattered black sails. "Welcome to the 1700's Miss Bouchard. Now tell me, what be your first name?"

I glared up at him and dug my fingers into the wood of the ship's deck. "Like I'd tell you after what you've done."

The cursed pirate rolled his eyes and a tall and muscular African man stepped forward. Oh crap. "Emily….My name is Emily Rose MacDuff."

"Well, Emily," Barbossa smirked, "Welcome to the Black Pearl. I'll be sendin' some…Proper clothin' for ye. It will be in your size, I assure ye."

I snarled at him, "You son of a –" I started, people had made fun of my weight all my life and I wasn't going to take it from some jerk like him! Dead or not. Pintel and Raggetti grabbed my arms before I had a chance to take a swing at their captain and they dragged me towards an opening in the ship. It wasn't until they pushed me into a tiny shoebox size cabin that I realized I was trapped here. Not knowing what else to do, I curled up in a corner and wrapped my arms around my knees. Tears flooded into my eyes and I knew I had to escape, but at the moment I was so damned terrified and traumatized I didn't know what to do. It wasn't until I had no more tears to shed that I realized there was a sparkle of hope in this mess….And that little grain of hope was another pirate captain named Jack Sparrow. According to the legend, he was always trying to get his ship back; maybe, just maybe, I could somehow find him or he would find me. Just maybe….