A/N: Okay, I feel the need to offer a bit of explanation before the reading commences. Hi. I've written one previous fic here, also PotC-themed. I wrote it about 3 years ago (ish), and I started this one shortly after. Then I basically forgot about it for quite some time, only to rediscover it much later and make some changes. Since I came up with the concept quite some time ago, you're going to have to completely disregard the existence of the second movie. It hadn't come out when I started writing this. So I hope you're willing to live with that. Now, there MAY be a few moments while you're reading where you might feel like this is going to be your typical Jack/OC romance…but you've got to trust me when I say I really believe this is something different. Is it worth your time? I have no idea. You be the judge. So read, review, and try to enjoy. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean 1 or 2, nor do I own any of the characters. I have made up some of them, though.

Chapter 1

I laid motionless on the uncomfortable mattress, surrounded by suffocating darkness. I clutched the thin sheet to my bare skin, listening. I heard him getting out of the bed as quietly as he possibly could, but not quietly enough. I could tell he was dressing, and I could also tell this would be the last time I saw him. There was a long pause where I heard nothing, until I heard him creep over to the now vacant side of the bed he had previously occupied. He then approached my side, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Goodbye, love," he whispered in my ear. A silent, naïve tear rolled down my cheek, still warm from his kiss, as I heard the door creak open, then a low noise as he shut it behind him.

"Goodbye, Jack."

I awoke in a cold sweat, the dream fresh in my memory. His gentle voice resonated through my thoughts, and I desperately tried to hold onto them. But, to no avail, they left as quickly as they had arrived. I'd cried all my tears over that memory a long time ago, though. A loud crack of thunder startled me out of my reverie. That's when I finally realized I wasn't alone. Two small eyes were peering at me from a crack in the door.

"Mommy, I can't sleep," the young child whispered, her voice quaking. I waved her in, and she rushed to my bed, jumping in next to me. I wrapped my arms around my five-year-old daughter, trying to comfort her.

"There's no reason to be afraid of a storm, Brianna. Remember what we talked about? It can't hurt you," I tried to assure her. She was trembling.

"It's not that," she whimpered. I put my hands on her shoulders so I could look into her eyes.

"Then what is it, sweetheart?" I asked. I hoped my worry wasn't as apparent as I felt it was. She swallowed hard.

"I had a nightmare." I sighed heavily.

"What was it about this time?" I asked sympathetically. The young child buried her face in my shoulder. I couldn't help but let my mind wander to last year.

"I had a dream, Mommy," Brianna whispered. I smiled reassuringly.

"It was only a nightmare, darling, don't concern yourself," I assured the child whose bottom lip was now quivering pitifully. She shook her head gravely.

"Don't go to work tonight, Mommy," she pleaded with me. I smiled again, wrapping my arms around her tightly.

"I can't feed you if I don't. Look at you! You're already skin and bones as it is!" I lightly pinched her thin arm hoping to evoke laughter. No such luck. "You know I have to work," I insisted. Her arms clung tightly around my neck. I removed them gently. She stared at me with her golden-brown eyes. The worry and concern were written all over her eyes, now tearing up, as I kissed her forehead. "Stop worrying so much. I'll be back late. Regina will be over to watch you in a few minutes," I told her, dressing quickly.

"Mommy, NO!" she shouted. It was agonizing to leave the child in such a state. I was glad to see that Regina had arrived early.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. I sighed, exasperated and overwhelmed. I was spread thin these days.

"She had a nightmare. She doesn't want me to leave her. Can you try and calm her down? I'm late as it is," I pleaded. She smiled, nodding. "Thanks, Gina. You know I really don't know what I'd do without you!" I embraced by dear friend tightly. "I'll be back early in the morning." I turned, heading to the door. Brianna cried out in one final desperate attempt.

"Mommy, you can't! You'll—" I closed the door behind me, agonized. It was all I could do. I knew if I'd heard anymore, I would've stayed. I couldn't afford to lose this job, not another one.

I walked through the rain to the Rusty Tankard. It was a small tavern and inn that apparently had been around as long as Tortuga and drunken pirates had. I apologized to Henry, the furious barkeep, trying to tell him about Brianna's bad dream.

"Bad dreams? You're tellin' me bad dreams is what kept ye? If every time I had a bad dream I stayed in bed, I—" It was pointless. I let him rant and rave for a while, occasionally throwing in a solemn head-nod or feigned look of great remorse. I began my night's work. The night dragged on uneventfully. The small room filled up quickly over the next hour. The noise was deafening, men fighting with each other over…well…I suppose nobody really knew. That's just what people did around here. I set down a large mug of rum in front of a man with a beard that looked like all a matter of unsanitary creatures had begun to fester in it. I proceeded to collect some money from a few tables, then start on a few dirty dishes in the (probably dirtier) water.

"Claire, can you take the table in the corner? I swear, much more of this and I won't live to see the sun come up!" one of the other female bartenders pleaded. I nodded quickly, then went to the table in the far corner of the bar.

"What can I get ya, sailor?" I asked the man over the sound of glass breaking on the other end of the bar. He chuckled, and I could smell his revolting breath from where I stood. That's when I noticed the glint of a blade in his hand as he rose from his seat. I looked at his face as he stepped into the light, and he grabbed me around the waist. I was about to scream when he placed the dagger threateningly against my throat.

"We can do this the hard way, or ye can jus' come with me like a good little wench. But either way, I'm having meself some company t'night," his voice crackled harshly. I stiffened my body to prevent him from seeing the tremors that were undoubtedly coursing through me.

"Alright, take it easy. Just…sit down, and drink up. This one's on the house, alright?" I tried to reason with him. I tried to distract him as I raised my leg, hoping to reach for the dagger tucked in my boot. However, he must have noticed, as he trust the dagger forward as it slid down my arm, a scarlet line forming through my blouse. I struggled with him, and he dragged me up the old staircase of the bar, leading to the rooms upstairs. He burst into a room, throwing me across it and into the bed. When I didn't cooperate, the back of his hand contacted my face, as I screamed. The sound never made it downstairs.

I came home very early the next morning, completely numb and devoid of emotion. Regina saw me, and she knew immediately. My left eye was swollen shut, clothes torn, my body riddled with bruises. I held my arms around myself miserably, my face tear-stained and puffy. Brianna came out, looking into my good eye, her own filling with tears, then anger.

"You should've listened!" she cried, then retreated to her room.

One stray tear rolled down my cheek, but I quickly and furiously wiped it away. What would I be leaving behind, really? A worthless job, probably the worst environment to raise my child…it was time. But where would I go? Well…I couldn't be bothered with such trivial details at that moment.

"Let's go." I insisted. I was not going to tempt fate again.

"But Mommy—"I cut the child off. I started rushing around the room, frantically stuffing our meager belongings into a sack.

"It's time we get out of here…not going to deal with Henry anymore…can't believe I've waited this long." Fragments of anger from years of pent-up frustration and misery flooded from my mouth, a tear forming in the corner of my eye. Controlling myself, I refused to let it fall. I had to be strong for my daughter. My daughter.

"Damn you, Jack Sparrow," I choked. I threw the sack over my shoulder, grasping Brianna's hand quickly.

"But Mommy, you don't—"

"Brianna! We have to go. We'll never get out of here if we don't go now!" I pleaded with the young child.

"But—" I pulled Brianna into the stormy, otherwise silent night. The streets were slick with rain. The whole town felt dirty. I hated this town. Even the rain felt dirty, like liquid filth, stinging my clammy skin. It was only then that certain details suddenly didn't seem so trivial, as I realized I had no idea where I was going. So I ran for the docks, pulling a shouting and reluctant Brianna behind me. She usually minded me better than that. I pushed it out of my mind, all reasoning having left me long ago. I snuck behind an alley near the docks to avoid walking in front of the Rusty Tankard. No chances tonight. I didn't want to do anything that might make me change my mind. Brianna was screaming to go back, but it was too late. My mind was made up. That's when I heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed. I looked ahead and realized a man had a sword pointed at my throat. I heard Brianna whimper behind me. "I dreamed this…" and it was only then I realized the error of my ways. She hadn't wanted me to stay home from work, not this time. She knew I wanted to leave. She tried to stop me. Again, I didn't listen. But how could she have known? A dream? This was absurd. But either way, I cursed myself, even hated myself. Not only had I endangered myself, but my own daughter as well. The man who held the sword at my throat inched closer.

"Who 'ave we 'ere?" he grumbled. He was tall, well over six feet, with an unruly beard and a crooked nose. It looked as though it had been broken in a scuffle. He grinned, as a little of his rank breath escaped. I inched away.

"Run, Brianna," I whispered. The girl was paralyzed with fear, frozen to the spot. "I SAID RUN!" I screamed, kicking the man in the shin with as much might as I could muster. Brianna raced down the alley as quickly as her little legs would allow. I turned to run, but I wasn't as fortunate as Brianna. I felt the man's hand grasp the collar of my dress as the pressure on my throat caused me to choke for air. I reached as I had last year for the dagger concealed in my boot. Apparently the dagger in the boot trick wasn't worth the effort, because the man noticed and used the hilt of his sword, bashing me over the head. My world went fuzzy around the edges, and the darkness threatened to take over. He shoved me, my ankle twisting with an unpleasant sound. I tried to cry out, but only a pitiful squeak escaped. I fell backwards onto the muddy street, the man towering over me. In my last moments of consciousness, I saw him lifting his sword above his head, ready to bring it down upon me. My world was in slow motion. But a figure, shrouded by the darkness, drove his own sword through the man's chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, crying out in agony. He fell heavily on top of me, and I cringed under his weight. My rescuer quickly knelt down and pulled the man off of me, then gathered me up in his arms. Had I not seen the sword driven into my attacker's chest, I would've said the man was getting up. Impossible. I used all of my remaining consciousness to turn my attention to my rescuer.

"Ah, so we meet again, love," he slurred. My head fell back, and I gave into an unconscious sleep.