Disclaimer: All recognisable Pirates of the Caribbean characters are the property of Disney. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from this story. Kate, the original character in this story, is of my creation and belong to me.
Author's Note: I debated for a while if I should post this story, mainly because I had gotten so much positive feedback on 'The Red Lady' and didn't want to ruin the mood set in that fic. But because I'm curious to see if there is any interest in reading another piece of the history between Jack and Kate, and because a good friend and fellow fanfiction writer talked me into it, I am posting it, to see what happens.
Like you may have discovered, this is a sequel to another fic of mine called 'The Red Lady', so you might want to read that before you sink your teeth into this one. Reviews are as always greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

He approached her room with a certain anticipation. It had been over a year since he had last set foot in Tortuga. It had been an adventurous time at sea, and a part of him had longed to come here, to tell her of all that had happened aboard the Pearl, to see the look in her eyes when she studied him to find out which part of his tales that were the truth and which were wishful figments of his own well-developed imagination. To see the smile that always seemed to reach her eyes, and had the most impossibly suggestive powers…

The moment he pushed the door open he knew that something was terribly wrong. The room looked like it had been the field of battle between a gathering of pirates and a garrison for the East India Trading Company. Everything in it bore the signs of a violent fight, chairs lay toppled over, along with the table around which they were usually placed. The pieces of cloth that usually hung scattered around the walls giving the room an instantly disarming charm, were torn and some now lay in heaps on the floor. Books and paper were scattered all over, candles broken or knocked out of their holders. But what made a cold claw of fear carefully fasten its grip on his heart was the sight of blood on various objects all around the room.

"Kate? Are you here?"

He noticed, with a certain irritation, that his voice trembled slightly when he spoke the words. When he got no response, his eyes immediately shuffled through the chaos searching for her. Then his ears picked up the sound of quiet sobs, coming from a darkened corner, and he spun around to see.

It was only then, when he saw her huddled shadow crawled into a corner like a frightened animal, that he realised just how wrong the whole situation was, and two conflicting feelings sprung to life like a fire inside him. First came the surging anger and a burning wish to find the man responsible for this, only to have the satisfaction of thrusting his sword through the blithering vermin's chest. But before he could do so, the sight of her broken form came back to him, and he realised that the heartless bastard responsible would have to wait. Right now she needed him better.

He crouched beside her, reaching out to touch her shoulder with one hand. Instinctively she drew away, afraid that another blow was imminent.

"It's alright, Kate. It's just me, love, it's just me."

"Go away, Jack! Get out!"

Usually, he would have listened to her. But not this time. The fear and desperation in her voice was so clear that what conscience he had did not permit him to back away.

"Kate. Kate…look at me."

Silence fell, and he could only watch as her eyes slowly dared to rise from the floorboards and meet his own.

"I'm not going anywhere."



She managed to get to her feet, and started to brush pieces of broken glass off of her dress, until she realised that a few pieces of glass did not matter, the dress would still be far beyond repair. Then she threw a glance at him. Jack Sparrow, a man she had grown very fond of in her own way, but she still wish he had not come this night, that he had not seen her like this. After something like this took place she usually managed to avoid attention until the bruises had disappeared and the wounds had healed, but now she could not. Because he had seen her, in one of her most vulnerable moments. She could not decide what she wanted to do more, to curse him or to kiss him. In the end, she did neither, but restrained herself to that simple glance, which told him more than she had meant it to.

"Fine…But then you better make yourself useful for once and help me clear up this mess."

She heard a resigned sigh, and his voice behind her, saying her name.

"Kate…"

There was something in the way he said it, that made her freeze, not out of fear, but because she did not know how to react to it. This was not the situation she was used to when she was with him. One of the first lessons she had learned when entering her profession came back to her: Appearance is everything. No matter how chaotic your feelings were, no matter what you were faced with, you had to appear untouched, unharmed…invincible. It was a masked she had adapted quite well over the years, and she did not let it fall easily. But her violent encounter with one of her clients that evening had upset her, and she had no choice but to let the mask fall for a while. And, with his usual, impeccable timing, Jack Sparrow had appeared.

"Don't, Jack. Don't go there…It is what it is, alright?"

They both fell silent, and for a moment it was as if an invisible wall had appeared between them. She looked at him, and he looked at her, but that was all. When she could no longer bear to look into those dark eyes, she busied herself with cleaning up the mess that had once been a quite well-furnished room.

She ignored him for a while; half hoping that he would disappear into thin air, like he had appeared out of it on the most inconvenient of times. For a moment she actually thought that he had vanished, because she could no longer hear him behind her, but suddenly a miraculously unbroken glass filled with a dark mahogany coloured liquid appeared right in front of her with his hand holding it.

"Now, personally, I have no idea how you can drink this stuff, but right now I'm damn sure you need it."

He turned her carefully so she faced him, looking down into her bloody and tear stained face. Smiling warmly he reached out for her hands, placing the glass in them, for a moment holding both her hands and the glass between his palms. She accepted the glass, and drained it, suddenly feeling a strong sense of gratitude towards him for not vanishing after all.

"Irish whiskey, a habit I picked up from my father years ago, after having ducked those cheap bottles of his for over a decade. He was a considerable ass by all definitions, but he knew his drink."

She said quietly, a resigned smile appearing on her lips as she fixed him with her gaze once again.

As they stood there, facing one another, letting the silence say more than words could ever say, she caught sight of herself in some of the shards of a broken mirror that lay thrown halfway into a corner. Without really noticing, she brought a hand to her face, as if to see that the bruising, the cuts and the blood were really there, and not just a conjuring trick played on her by the mirror itself.

Again, as her tears began to flow freely, he was there, his hands turning her away from the mirror, and towards him.

"Kate. Kate, listen…you're going to be alright. We've been through this before. You're going to be alright. Now, let's get you cleaned up."

He caught her eyes with his own and suddenly smiled a mischievous smile.
"I…I hope you forgive me for saying this, but you look bloody awful, mate."

She rested her head against his shoulder and could not help but smile. And with the smile came the laughter, engulfing her, freeing her, slowly returning some of the woman she had been, piecing her mask back together.

Still sniggering she nodded concededly.
"I do, don't I?"

He nodded, smiling as he stroked her hair away from her face.

"I can fix that."

He bent down to kiss her, but stopped when he felt her hesitation, and instead only gently brushed her lips with his own.

She sighed, a sigh that made it sound like her heart was about to shatter to pieces, and her voice was both bitter and trusting when she spoke.

"I know you can. After all…you are Captain Jack Sparrow. There are very few things in this world you cannot do."

She sat on her bed, which was the only thing in the room that had been left practically unscathed, and he sat next to her, cleaning away the blood from her face. For a long time they sat in silence, before Kate silently spoke.

"Jack…tell me a story."

They looked at one another, and he saw that she was closer now to being herself, the woman he had known for years, again.

"What?"

"Tell me a story, Jack. You've sailed the seas for a good twenty years, and Lord knows you haven't sailed them quietly. There are all kinds of stories flying around about you and what you've done…and haven't done. Tell me one…like you use to do."

"Now, how do you expect me to know any of the stories they tell about me, Kate?"

She smiled.

"Because I strongly suspect that at least half of them came from your own mouth, that's why."

"Well…"
He seemed to hesitate, and weighed his words carefully.

"…I did perhaps contribute a trifle to a couple of them, but the exact words I'm sorry to say are hidden behind a rather thick veil created by the blessings that a large intake of alcohol bring."

She smiled calmly, and he saw in her eyes a sense of safety, something he was not used to seeing in people's eyes when they were with him. Then the look changed, and there was the tiniest sparkle of mischief present when she said:

"I heard something about you impersonating a cleric of the Church of England…Now how does a pirate as notorious as Jack Sparrow manage that?"

"It sprung out of necessity, darling, as do most of the crimes I stand charged with. You see, I was in London with this geezer named Larry, and we…"