Author's Note: Hello, and thank you for stopping by! This was my very first Pirates of the Caribbean story, and for a time I had removed it due to wanting to do some re-writing. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! I value your thoughts and opinions, and will happily listen to what you have to say, especially as I am preparing to write a better version for you lovely people!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. It belongs to their rightful owners.


The flame of a burning candle shined luminously in the darkened, loud room in the tavern that was greatly known as the Faithful Bride. Men and women from all over the town, scoundrels that look for a beverage and a decent bedding for the night and the usual liquor drinkers were indeed enjoying their time in the tavern. Loud music played, men and women danced; some were sober and some were plainly taken over by the liquor. The men were dressed in dirt-fifth, liquor soaked, ragged clothing; while the women did not care to what they wore – they were fine with their body-hugging and short dresses that showed off their bosoms. It was where the entertainment was. The excitement, the food and beverages and the warm cotton beds.

But most of all, it was where Captain Jack Sparrow told his tales of adventuring and enjoyed is rum.

"And that, m'dear ladies, is how I freed myself from the clutches of the Navy – bounded in chains and noose around my neck. So to speak, my death was near, but not quite, I easily freed my hands and my neck. Barley escaping the Navy on feet and horse, I jumped from the tower and into the dark depths of the ocean." Perhaps that was rather over-said rather done itself, but Jack Sparrow had to keep his reputation, of course.

Jack grinned at the two ladies that stood at his side, arms looped through each of his. Scarlett and Giselle were practically leaning in his chest, positively thrilled to hear such exciting tales and eager to hear more. "Oh, do tell more, Jack!" Scarlett battered her eyelashes at him, her smile purely sugar coated.

"Yes!" Giselle beamed. "I wish to hear more!"

Scarlett scowled at her. "I asked him first!"

Giselle gasped. "No, you did not! I was here first."

"You were not!"

"I was so!"

Jack let out a hearty chuckle, enjoying the display. But nonetheless, two ladies arguing over him – and while it did not sound awful at all –but it was not to go well with Jack Sparrow in the presence and flesh. "Now, now, ladies—"

But his words did no good, for they were quickly engaged in a fight. This time, no words were involved – but hands were. Scarlett tackled the woman to the floor, where they rolled around at Jack's feet, giving their best – although very weak – attempt at their hits, crying out at their own pain in the process. Jack winced as one pulled hair and the other used her teeth to bite. The view was not all too enticing and Jack then decided that he was in need of some liquor.

Quickly slipping away and allowing the two women to "settle" what differences they had, he slithered to the bar that was held inside of the tavern. Jack slammed two shillings onto the counter in front of the man. "Two pints of rum , mate." The barkeeper gave a nod before grabbing the shillings and turning to brew up the mugs.

An abnormal shiver overcame Jack's body as his senses tensed up within him. He had traveled two weeks by a small, yet wrecked row boat to Tortuga after his recent "battle", he was lost without any food or water. But along those two weeks he had felt the sense that he was being followed – or rather tracked. Of course who wouldn't follow Captain Jack Sparrow? It was rather logical in Jack's mind, but there was still that chill. That unwanted, cold chill that had not left his body. Someone was following him and that someone was near.

But all his thoughts went away when his two, striking pints of rum were in front of him. Jack grinned and raising his two glasses at the barkeeper, he stood up. "Thanks, mate. Keep the tip." However, the pirate paused as he glanced at the barkeeper once more, who took his free time in wiping down the counter. "'Ey, mate." At the barkeeper looking up, Jack inched over to the counter, rum in hands still. "Do ye own this fine tavern?"

The barkeeper raised an eyebrow, eying him. "No," he said slowly. "I do not. But there is your man right over there." He nodded his head and pointed his finger behind Jack, where an older man stood behind a large desk in the left side of the room, nearby the door of the tavern.

"Ah!" Jack grinned and strolled along through the big crowd of the drunken dancers and lovers. Upon finally reaching the older man, he was greeted with a friendly, warm smile.

"I do hope you are enjoying your stay." His accent was thick and exotic. "How may I be of service to you, good sir?"

"Oi, lad." Jack sat down his two mugs of rum and the older man cringed from the scent of it. "Ye don't happen to have any open rooms, do ye? A man has got to sleep, ye know."

"I would imagine so." The older man gave him a warily smile. "I am afraid that all rooms are taken up and we saving our finer rooms for…decent folks."

"Mate, look around you." The older man frowned as Jack's hand waved around him. "Ye cannot get better than what you already have. I believe I will take up one of those finer, fancy rooms of yours and be on my way…"

Jack reached his hand for the mass of silver keys that sat on the desk at the man's elbow, but man grabbed his wrist before he was able to make contact with the keys. Jack received a somnolent look from the man. "I'm afraid that will not do, sir," he replied in a low tone; he seemed did not to take Jack too kindhearted. "At times we get more the richer folks here." He gave a light smile. "I'm afraid you will have to find somewhere else to stay."

Jack took that moment to reach into his worn trouser pockets and dropped five shillings onto the desk in front of the man. "Five shillings," Jack pointed to the hall that was to the left, where many doors remained closed and locked with small numbers carved onto the wood. "for one of your nicer rooms. Two nights only and then you can bring whoever you want into this Tavern. I'll be gone by dawn on the second day of my stay." The older man took a long pause. He glanced at Jack, then the shillings, then at Jack again. He did not seem too impress with the pay and took his time in deciding his answer. Jack gave him in a little hand, slipping his right hand to his waist and grasping the handle of his pistol. The older man saw this. "It's yer choice, mate. What will it be?"

Fear clouded his eyes and smiling apprehensively, he slammed his hand on the five shillings and plucked a key from the pile and handed it to Jack. "R-Room Eight," he stammered. "H-Have a nice day!"

Jack grinned and grabbed his two pints of rum and the given key; he raised both hands as to a toast. "Cheers," he winked before strolling off, pretending as if nothing had happened and whistling. He decided before retrieving to his new, fancy bedding he would make an attempt to find Scarlett and Giselle once more. But at the sight that they were still sorting their "differences", this time a crowd around them, cheering; Jack decided that he should meandered around a bit.

Whistling, Jack continued on and weaving his way through the large crowds of men and women, taking sips from both pints and letting out a satisfied sigh as the liquor washed down his dry throat. He came to a stop, however, as something caught his eyes. There sat a small, round table in the middle of the tavern, two people occupying the chairs that were place at the table. A slim figure sat in one chair and a man across from her, twice her size Jack might add, hands locked and elbows firmly on the table. They were arm wrestling and by God, the woman was winning!

Her weight shifted, struggling to keep the weight. The man competing against her was not only twice his age, but two decades older than her. With ease, she gained her strength back and won the battle and with her weight alone, he was flipped and broke the chair in half by his weight. He lay on the floor with the broken pieces of the chair beneath him, groaning in pain. Cheers and whistles went around and the woman raised her arms up in victory, looking about her. Her face was unseen, however, for her feathered hat was slanted downward a bit. Her body was covered with her dark blue over coat, thin, gold trims along the sleeves and edges of the over coat.

"Who's next, me hearties?" the woman let out a laugh as her next opponent came up and they locked hands once more, preparing their fight. She had a thick accent, that was for sure, but what sort of accent it was, was the trick question. Shrugging it off, Jack turned and decided to go make himself at home with his new room. Whistling he strolled off and taking swings of his liquor along the way.

"There is nothing better tasting than good ole rum!"

Sleep was not well known in the Faithful Bride. Of course anyone knew that within a mile away from the Tavern and on the many accounted visits that Jack has made to the tavern, sleep was simply not something that was known in any Tavern. Jack stumbled down the hall and entered the loud room of music and laughter, dancing and cheering; after two hours of blissful slumber. Jack was mostly rested. Two hours was all he needed.

He was Jack Sparrow.

After grabbing his delightful pint of rum, he strolled along the crowds to find himself a decent spot, passing two men sitting, drinking their liquor. "Oi! This woman 'ere," the pirate heard and curiously peeked at them. "I hear she can flip two men, twice her side, without breaking a bead of sweat."

"A woman?" the other man cackled, taking a big gulp from his beverage. "It cannot be true."

"Oh, but it is! I've seen it meself; flipped a man twice her size today. Aye, yes. It was quite the show!"

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his mind setting back to the slim figure those two hours ago. She was strong, indeed, but was she strong enough to easily dispatch two men twice her size? "Hmm." Jack looked up at the loud crash, followed by the loud cheering and whistling. There, sitting at a table, was the same slim figure. She had again won her battle in forte, and it was nor ordinary arm wrestling for strength game – bets were included.

Jack grinned shrewdly and strolled his way over to the table just as she spoke up whilst collecting her money. "Who's next?" she called out, laughter pure in her voice over the loud music and chatter.

Jack approached the table and slammed the mug onto the table, a small wave of the liquor splashing and spilling over a bit. The woman tilted her head up slightly, although her face remained unseen to all. Jack silently took a seat across from her and lifted up his sleeve. "Oh, I see," she said, her tone holding amusement. "you are one of those folks that likes to get right down to business. Very well!" She shifted her weight, reaching to her side. "What will you bet? It is not a game without-"

The short thud of his compass meeting the table echoed, cutting the woman off. Jack flashed her a amiable wink. "Top of the quality," Jack said simply. "You would be a fool to lose something valuable."

The woman nodded and threw off her coat, only to reveal she wore a secondary, plain coat. She tossed it on the table with his compass, along with her blade. The handle was black with gold lining and the blade itself was long, the very tip sharp to the point. It indeed was a treasured blade.

"On the count of three," she said, lifting her own arm and earning a nod from Jack, their hands locking firmly together.

"1…"

"2…"

"3!"

Jack had to admit, and he had doubted it, but the woman had an arm. There was no doubt about that, for certain. Both of their strength combined only extended their bet, but Jack was prepared to keep himself up. Moments passed; their strength had weakened back and forth, but easily gained it back by the cheering and whistling about them. "I must admit," Jack grunted. "You are a strong lass."

"Yeah?" she laughed. "You are not so bad yourself."

Her strength weakened at last, however, and Jack slammed her hand right on the table. Cheers and clapping came about at his victory and with a grin he stood up as the woman let out an exasperated sigh. Jack gathered his compass and new coat before picking up the blade, but he stopped in his tracks. She held up good and strong and no strong lass like herself should never venture alone without a proper weapon of protection. Jack made his decision. "Lass." As her head tilted upward, he tossed her the blade and she caught it easily by the handle of the sword. "Keep it; a strong one like you should have a blade like that."

Her hand came to her hat and gave a small salute with her fingers. "Much obliged."

Jack bowed jokingly and with that, he threw on his coat and grabbed his mug of rum before deciding to make his final effort to gain his slumber.

"Thanks, mate," Jack raised his mug of rum to the barkeeper, dropping two shillings onto the counter. As the barkeeper eagerly swiped it up and stowed it away in his pouches, Jack walked away with a grin as weaved through the evening crowd of the Tavern. With only very few sparingly shillings left, Jack had little options left. But nonetheless, it was enough to surpass another week or so. He knew one way or another he was going to find himself a way to riches and then, he will have his supply of rum.

His blissful, delightful rum. Soon, he would be out on the sea. He could feel it in his blood. That, Jack knew, for sure. He would have to wait for the moment to arrive.

Jack eyed a lone table sitting in the far back room, not too far from his own steps. He continued forward, but he stopped suddenly in his tracks as a thick accent spoken up. "Jack Sparrow." His blood stopped cold and his feet slowly turned him around; no one stood in front of him but in the shadows several feet away, he saw a figure. A familiar, slim figure.

"Aye?" came out of his dry mouth, eying the shadows with one eye, and the other scouting for any danger.

She chuckled. "I have been looking for you."

"Lie." Jack tilted his head up, squeezing his eyes to get a view of the figure in the shadows, but it did no good. "Those who look for me," his hand slowly went to his pistol at his waist. "try to kill me." He gave a warily look. "You don't sound like someone who wants to kill."

Chuckle. "Not the least, but do know that pistol of yours will not do any good to serve you protection. At least, against me."

"I will drop my hand if you come out."

"I will come out if you drop your hand from your makeshift pistol."

Jack eyed her figure as she shifted her weight; from the moonlight shining through the window, he could see her hands on either side of her waist; she was cautious as well. What she was grasping she had a good grip on, her small fingers running over the material. "We will do it together," he declared. He saw her nod.

"That is fair enough."

Jack eyed her cautiously enough as she slowly stepped out from the shadow. He stepped to one side, his hand falling ever so slowly to his side until she was fully out from the darkness. It was then Jack dropped his hand completely from his pistol and to his side. Indeed it was the young woman from earlier, and she still remained covered by her coat and feathered hat. Jack arched an eyebrow, both eyes moving up and down as he took a look at her. He stepped to the side and she stepped to the opposite, both slowly and cautiously as they walked in a circle.

"Who are you?" Jack finally asked as they came to a stop and the woman shook her head.

"That is not important," was her reply. "But what is important is that I know who you are and you know who I am."

In all the years Jack had lived his life, he has never recall a woman with such a thick accent but one woman. Elizabeth Swann –nee Turner. Jack quirked an eyebrow. "Elizabeth?"

There was another chuckle. "Not quite, but you are close."

Jack studied her for a long moment. He did not know this woman. "You are not familiar, luv."

"Let us not press on that matter," the woman replied, shifting her weight. Her feathered hat covered her face completely; the only feature that was revealed to anyone that lay eyes on her was her long and dark, wavy hair to her very waist. "I have a message for you." At Jack's quirked eyebrows, she gave a nod. "Yes, Jack, a message for you. From Mister Joshamee Gibbs."

"Mr. Gibbs," Jack mused, running his free hand over his chin, rubbing.

"Yes." She took a step closer to him, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. "He is in custody of the Royal Navy and is due for a trial in a matter of two weeks."

"What in God's name did he do," Jack mused to himself more than out loud, but the woman heard him nonetheless.

"Taking your crimes as his," her thick accent cut through his thoughts. Jack glanced up and she continued on. "He was caught at sea in what was an abandoned row boat and the Navy picked him up. They were looking for you, but Mister Joshamee Gibbs took your crimes into his own hands and now, he waits for his death in London."

Something hit Jack's veins. It didn't felt all too true; it pained his heart. Was it perhaps…culpability? Jack Sparrow never felt guilt and has sailed the seas for many years, killing, stealing and threatening he has done without any guilt or remorse. But not this time – he felt guilty. It was an odd feeling, a feeling he would not admit. But Gibbs had stood at his side for years – as his faithful companion and First Mate, and there he were in England, London; waiting for his trail and soon, his own death.

"I can help you," came the woman's voice, breaking Jack from his thoughts once more. Jack eyed her, reluctance written in his eyes. "I will be of use, Jack Sparrow, I'll have you know."

Jack held up his hands in front of him. "I am sure you would be," he said. "aye, but a woman on a ship is considered bad luck, luv."

"And do tell, where is your ship?" At his silence, the woman nodded. "Yes, that is what I thought. Last I heard, your precious ship was taken away from you, oh how long? Far too long, yes?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Aye…far too long."

"Well, I have a ship and a crew as well." Her arms crossed at her chest as she leaned her body against the column next to her. "Your good friend is in need of help, but it is up to you, Jack. I can easily prepare you my ship and you will be on your way to England at full speed. Under one condition, of course."

"And that be?"

"You will take me with you to England. I will not allow you, Mister Sparrow, on a ship as such with a crew. I do believe I have my rights here." Jack ridiculed and took a swing of his long elapsed rum. "I have a ship and you do not," this time her voice was firm. "I have a crew to man a ship. You do not. It is your choice, Sparrow, if you wish to save your friend so."

It was silent for a long moment. Jack was deep in his thoughts and the woman tolerantly waited, pressing her hand into the column to support her. One minute passed. Two. Three. Four minutes passed and she saw a short nod. "Well?"

"Deal, lass."

"We leave at dawn."

They sealed their deal with a shake of their hands, but her hand was strangely very cold and pale, her hoary bracelets shaking together and creating a rattling sound. Jack stared down at her hand and then up at her, and mustered a smile. "It is a deal, then."

Dawn quickly approached and Jack Sparrow knew better then to bring a woman along his travels. She would simply just cause riff ravel. With his weaponry tucked away safely at his waist and his hat sitting upon his head, Jack set out down the hall as he emerged from his room, strolling to the very door of the Tavern. But to his surprise, the woman stood in front of the door, blocking his steps to venture out. She leaned against the door frame, one leg over the other and arms crossed with her feathered hat blocking view of her face.

"You were going to leave. Without a ship."

"I be a good swimmer, luv."

"You are volatile," she murmured with a shake of her head. But nonetheless she somehow knew what he had in mind; it clearly did not go according as planned. "We are in a hurry, no?"

Jack heaved a sigh. There was no use in dispatching this young lass, she was very stubborn it so seemed, but why did he not fight as hard as he would? Perhaps he wanted to be out to his freedom at the sea. "Aye, let us depart but one question here, lass."

"Yes?"

"Is there rum on yer vessel?"

Chuckle. "Do not fear, Jack. There is plenty of rum for you to enjoy."