Disclaimer: Jack and his Pearl belong to Disney, as with the billions of dollars that the movies are racking up.

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A fight was on, on the Black Pearl, shortly after the Golden Sun hooked up with it. Blood started to soak the deck, turning it crimson, before Jack's eyes as he watched his crew suffer a beating.

Jack had been sitting in his cabin reading over maps and thinking of making a detour to Tortuga when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A ship was coming up on them. He had turned around and stood up to look out his window to get a good look at the ship. It was very well kept, probably the cleanest in the whole Caribbean. In fact, it looked as if it had never before touched water, but Jack was sure that he had seen it somewhere before. Had it been in a dream? No, it wasn't, because if it had been, the ship would have been filled with rum.

No, wait…. there was rum. He smiled at the thought, licking his lips, as if there was a little bit of rum left on them. Jack looked closer at the ship as it approached the Black Pearl. The timber had a tint of gold all over it, as if the color of the sun setting was pulled from the sky and glazed over the body of the ship. At the bow of the ship, just off to the starboard side was a marking. A drawing of a sun setting into the waves, very similar to his tattoo, but missing the Sparrow, was engraved into the wood with a smoky iron.

But, what was so familiar about this dream ship of his? The golden tint definitely stood out in his mind. He knew he had seen that marking before it was on a ship. In fact, it was that marking that had intrigued him into getting his own tattoo on his wrist. It all happened before he had his running in with the East India Trade Company and Cutler Beckett. That filthy, British swine! Oh, how he wanted to get back at him for branding that mark on his wrist for all eternity. "I hope you rot in hell," uttered an angered Jack, as he looked down at both of his marks on his wrist, and cursed Beckett for that distasteful "P". That memory pained him, but it did not help him in trying to remember how he got his name tattoo.

There was a lass…. He started to recall. But which lass was it? It wasn't from Tortuga that was for sure. She wasn't a lowly wench who gave men a good time just for money. No, she was much classier than that. Class! That was it! He remembered she wore something of a high class. A finer outfit that would have impressed maybe even the King of England, himself. It was the dress that had first caught his attention, the low cut dress with the ruby rose pendant right in the middle of her bosom with gold doubloons draping the edges of her skirt. He remembered the sound of the tinkling of coins gently hitting each other as she took each light-footed step, and then he saw the locks of hair moving in front of the gentle face with the scarlet lips. No one could forget those lips once they had seen them, nor her oceanic blue eyes.

He closed his eyes to remember all of the fond memories and tried to picture the lovely lass in the golden dress with the beautiful ocean eyes and scarlet lips. But it was only those few details that he could make out. It had been too long. Far too long since he'd last laid eyes on the young lass. So, young was she that she couldn't be much older than sixteen, but there was a certain air about her that he recalled that made her seem older… wiser than she was, which was why he had believed her to be somewhere about his age when he first laid eyes on her. Jack was merely a young captain back then; somewhere around his early twenties. He of course had been with many women since then, and so her form had faded in his mind. It had been near thirteen years since he had seen her, and with only getting the Pearl back in his mind for most of it, it was of no surprise that he forgot her.

Now this ship sailed towards his beloved Pearl and brought back the same air about it, as that lass had about her. He still could not recall much else. All he knew was he had helped that young lass and that was it.

Taking a breath and just relishing in the memory of a dream, he opened his eyes to the clang of swords. The ship was no longer in his sight, but had reached the starboard side of the Pearl and hooked on to it.

"Enough!" screamed Jack, as he stepped out in to the midst of the battle. "Where be your Captain?" he questioned, and the deck became still and quiet.

"Right here," said a feminine British voice, softly but stern.

Jack looked up to see a tall, lean woman in her twenties standing on the rail. She had long brunette, semi-curly hair that danced in the wind around her gentle face, and deep blue eyes, which resembled the ocean, and scarlet lips. She wore a long sleeved, black blouse that fell off the shoulders with a deep cut barely showing cleavage, a maroon, crinkly skirt decorated with sequins that flowed with the air, and a belt that hung loosely at her hips holding her sword. She had on small black, lace-up boots that came up to her knees and a black Captain's hat on her head, leaning over one eye. Not much jewelry was found on her, except for some gold hoops hanging on her earlobes and a chain around her neck. "Scarlet Sea," uttered Jack.

"Captain," began Scarlet as she jumped on the deck, without making a sound. "Captain Scarlet Sea, Jack," she said with a smirk on her face.

Jack let a small grin spread across his face after a moment. "Welcome aboard, Captain," said Jack, bowing his head a bit.

"Do you surrender, Captain?" asked Scarlet.

"Never, luv," replied Jack with a smile, and then noticed the sword under his chin, "But we can talk."

"Good. Men, lock his crew in the brig!" ordered Scarlet as she retreated with Jack back to his cabin and watched his crew being locked up.

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So, who exactly is this Scarlet Sea? You're about to find out, mates.

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