Summary: It had been two years since the Dauntless and all of her crew were lost at sea, never to be heard of again. At least, no one ever thought to hear of them again...

Disclaimer: This is most definitely not my sandbox, although I do play in it occasionally. Nor do I own any of my playmates, although I can wish.

Had he been a suspicious man, Gillette might have said that he had drawn the ship to them. Who knew, perhaps he had, but the fact was that the timing of the day's events was downright uncanny when he looked back on it.

He had been staring absently over the taffrail, his body present on the ship but his mind elsewhere. He was not generally given to such idleness; today, however, he had begun to truly look at the Interceptor and found himself comparing it with the Dauntless.

It was not, he supposed, truly a valid comparison. The Dauntless, for one, had been a first-rate ship of the line; the Interceptor was built on a different model altogether, one more suited for pursuit and sharp maneuvers. She was smaller, faster; Gillette suddenly found himself grinning as he pictured the look on James's face if he ever got a look at this ship.

James. The grin melted off his face as he realized what he had just thought. The man had been gone for two years and still Andrew half-expected him to be just below decks or waiting back at Port Royal with complaints about the amount of paperwork that had come across his desk while Andrew was away. First the Dauntless, now James – what was the matter with him today?

"Sir, there is a ship coming up two points abaft the starboard beam." The words startled Gillette out of his reverie.

"What nationality?" he asked.

"She is flying Dutch colors, sir, but…"

"But what, Leftenant?"

"I have never seen such a ship come out of a Dutch shipyard, sir; she's too big to be a merchantman and her rigging…"

Gillette's eyes narrowed as he considered what Mathers was saying.

"Pirates?" he asked speculatively.

"It is only a guess, sir…"

"But it is still a possibility," Gillette agreed. "Mr. Mathers, give the order to come about. Mr. Groves, rouse the Captain - inform him that we are preparing for a possible engagement."

The ship had no sooner begun to turn than the other ship picked up speed; there was a flutter of black cloth near her mainmast and Gillette turned back to Groves. "Make that a definite engagement, Groves," he said. "All hands beat to quarters!" he ordered. As the drums beat out the order, Gillette turned to watch the pirate ship, a frown creasing his brow.

The ensuing fight was prolonged and ugly. The pirate ship was, from what Gillette could tell, a ship of the line; she boasted more guns and more crew than the smaller Navy vessel. The pirates, however, were not overly bright, and for that Gillette was thankful; they could easily have found themselves overwhelmed had the pirates not rushed in too soon, opening themselves up for the retaliation of the faster ship. An hour later the fight was over; the pirates had been subdued and Second Leftenant Theodore Groves was ready to take command of the prize vessel when he noticed them.

All of the pirates he had seen thus far had been unfamiliar; their faces might have belonged to any sailor, their weather-beaten, often scarred visages nothing unusual. The men being led below-decks now, though…. Groves stared, startled, as he realized that he recognized the pirates as Marines, men who had served aboard….

"Dear God," he murmured, looking around him with more attention to detail than he had previously paid. His suspicions were soon confirmed and he hurried away, searching the deck for the First Leftenant. The two ships could not part yet; Gillette had to know.

Andrew Gillette was nearly in the longboat when Groves caught up with him.

"Sir! Sir!" He turned at the sound of his friend's voice, frowning in confusion. The ship was in good repair, the prize crew was more than well-equipped to handle her, large though she was; what could Groves possibly want?

"Sir, a moment please," Groves asked somewhat breathlessly.

"Yes?" Gillette asked.

"Sir, I may be imagining it but – does this ship seem – familiar – to you?" Groves asked in a hushed tone. Gillette raised one eyebrow.

"She appears to be a standard ship of the line, no doubt stolen; what of it?" Groves took a deep breath before answering.

"Sir, I almost hope I'm wrong, but I believe we are standing on the Dauntless." Gillette went pale. He turned, surveying the ship with new eyes, picking out minor details he had not before. And yet, any two ships might look similar…

"Explain," he demanded, turning back to Groves.

"I recognized some of the prisoners," Groves said. "They were among the Marines attached to the Dauntless at the time she disappeared. A Naval ship of the line would be a fine prize for pirates, would it not, sir?" Gillette stared around him for a few seconds, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. If it was true….

"Leftenant," he said hoarsely after a moment, "check the Captain's quarters. If this is the Dauntless some of James – of Captain Norrington's possessions will likely still be aboard." Groves nodded and turned away. Gillette raised his voice. "Mr. Mathers! Bring me the Captain of this vessel; I have a few questions I would like to ask him."

They met on the quarterdeck nearly an hour later. Gillette stood against the railing staring out to sea when Groves joined him, his hands tightly gripping the rail, tension rolling off him. Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to break the silence. Finally it was Gillette who took the initiative.

"You were right," he said, his voice strained.

"So were you," Groves replied, subdued. "The Captain talked?" Gillette gripped the railing even harder, his knuckles turning white as he did so.

"They sold him, Theo," he answered, his voice a mixture of anger, horror, and grief. "They took him to Santo Domingo and they sold him like some kind of animal…" He trailed off, his teeth clenched at the very thought of what had happened to their friend.

"We'll find him, Andrew," Groves said quietly. His eyes had gone hard; he did not look at Gillette but rather out to sea, a plan forming in his mind even as his friend spoke. "If I have to search every plantation in Santo Domingo, we'll find him." Gillette frowned.

"You?" he asked. "You know the Admiralty would never…."

"Then I'll resign my commission," Groves said almost savagely. He was silent for a moment, seemingly collecting himself. "I don't think it will come to that. The Admiralty is always looking for new intelligence. I know enough Spanish to pass as one of them; I could pretend to be a planter considering settling there. If there's even a chance…"

"We have to take it," Gillette agreed. There was a moment's uneasy silence before Groves turned away.

"I must take command of the prize vessel," he said. Gillette nodded.

"I'll see you in Port Royal," he said.

They did not see each other again for six months.

And they're off! But how, you may ask, is the Pirates story to proceed without Norrington? Tune in at the same time next week and you may just find out.