Disclaimer: I do not own "Pirates of the Caribbean" or the character Jack Sparrow.

Chapter One- "Into the Shadows"

They were on her tail now. She could hear them quickly approaching, the shouting soldiers and the pounding of horse shoes. They were going to catch her any moment now and take her away in irons. They will hang her by morning. She could see it before her eyes, the way the crowd would clap and cheer, so proud of their act of redemption- executing the criminals. And that's the part that bothered her most: she wasn't a criminal. The very thought of someone being proud of her pale and lifeless body, the noose around her neck and the swinging of her legs nearly made Mackenzie keel over and vomit.

She hadn't seen it because of the black sky, but she felt it as her heel caught in the groove between two stones on the paved ground, throwing her foreword. The pounding was getting dangerously closer; and that's when she felt fingers wrap around her thin arm and pull her into the shadows.

Mackenzie's instincts told her to yell out, to fight against the intruder. When she began to thrash away from them, they held her closer, tighter. A rough palm flew to her lips and pressed down, not trying to suffocate but to keep her from being heard. "Shh," they told her, the voice deep and rough. A man.

She went still. He was not hurting her but holding her taught, hiding her from prying eyes and strangely protecting her. Mackenzie listened as the soldiers went by, their eyes searching and the horses galloping. Somehow, they had not seen her hiding in the black of the night.

After a long moment, the man released her. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" He asked in a worried but slightly amused tone.

"Excuse me?" she replied, completely baffled. Had he just saved her life? It had seemed so, but she could not think of a reason why a stranger would do such a thing. Was he looking for a reward?

He stepped forward, to which Mackenzie stepped back. This went on for a long moment, until she was illuminated by the moonlight and could see his face clearly. He was most handsome, with rugged features and passionate eyes. The blue coat and tri-cornered hat he wore was slightly weathered, but the unfamiliar sight of his strange look and searching gaze was what troubled her most.

"What do you want?" Mackenzie demanded from him. She was so tired. "I don't have any money."

His brown eyes narrowed at her sharply. "I don't want your money."

She was shaking; she was so frightened and beat. "Then what do you want? I have nothing to offer you."

The man did not exactly look truly and completely confused. "So the rumors are true, then. You do not remember a thing."

Something in Mackenzie's stomach sank and burned from his words. His eyes were so damn familiar. "Do I know you?"

"Apparently not," the man replied. "But I sure as hell know you."

The blood in her head was buzzing in her ears. "What is your name?"

"Jack Sparrow," he complied, "Captain of the Black Pearl."

The Black Pearl... suddenly, a bell rang between her ears. Did she truly know him? Did he somehow know that she was lost in this town, without any family or friends, without any memories? Was he taking advantage of her situation?

He gave Mackenzie a look. "What do you remember?"

She was reluctant to respond. "Yesterday."

"And before that?"

It took her a moment, but she managed to whisper quietly, "Not much of anything."

Captain Jack Sparrow nodded, somewhat sadly. He had feared this. The rumors were spreading, like the wanted signs with their names and faces, how his lass and companion had gone missing and somehow returned with no memory, no recall of her name or face. She was helpless. And this sent every enemy of hers and Jack's into a frenzy; revenge would be easy for them now. He came as soon as he could get to her.

"It wasn't easy to track you down, darling, I'll give you that." Captain Sparrow said to her, looking her over with concerned eyes. Her skirts were torn from her fall on the stones only a few feet away and there was a large cut across her temple, a look in her blue eyes of fear and her usual golden skin a milky white. He swallowed thickly; she was a mess.

He tried stepping closer to her once again, but she was having none of it. He sighed unhappily as she backed away, nearly falling over a broken crate. He caught her before she had the chance to fall, but let go of her as soon as her shoes were steadily on the ground. If he wanted to help Mackenzie, he would have to gain your trust, it would seem.

"What happened, pet?"

Something about that handsome face told her to tell him the truth. It was like a force she could not control, this yearning to tell him everything and allow him to take her away; to fix her. "He came after me. I didn't even see him... he came out of nowhere."

"Someone attacked you?" Jack asked with a creased brow. It would seem this pirate is honestly concerned for her wellbeing. She nodded, still on edge. She was watching every word she spoke to him. "I'd never seen him before."

He thought about this for a moment. "He tried to kill you?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Mackenzie decided. He was asking too many questions, and honestly, it was making her nervous. What did he want from her?

Jack Sparrow was in absolute awe. She honestly didn't remember him. This wasn't an act or a joke, a ploy to get back at him for their last encounter. A month ago, the last time he'd seen her [she looked so different now] the two of them had fought endlessly throughout the night [he can't even remember why] and she stormed out. The next morning, Mackenzie was gone. She could often be very overdramatic, and he hadn't seen her since. But now... now she was right in front of him, and he couldn't even hold her. He couldn't make right of his wrongs or kiss her lips. It was driving him up a wall.

Then he said her name, almost as a request, and her eyes snapped up. There was something in the way he said it, with such prayer and craving that made her heart twist in her chest. Something about this man was so wrong and right at the very same time. She didn't know what to do.

"Get away from me," she told him quietly.

His brow creased in frustration. "Darling..."

"Stop," Mackenzie said, holding out her hand in demonstration as he came closer.

"Where are you going to go?" Jack demanded. "They'll find you, lass. They'll find you and lock you up, and you'll have no way out. They'll hang you before noon. Do you want that?"

He was making everything so much more complicated. She just wanted to go home [where is home?] and rest. She needed it, for she felt about to collapse with exhaustion. And Jack knew this. He could see it with the way her graceful limbs moved, the way the bruises on her skin glowed in the moonlight.

As he reached for her once last time, and a small pistol was revealed from beneath her cloak. "Stay away," she told him again, aiming at his frame.

Needless to say, the captain of the Black Pearl gave up for the time being. He followed her in the shadows as she lurked along the edge of town, leading him to a small tavern he knew quite well: à Contre-courant [against the tide]. He watched through the crowd as she climbed the stairs. He followed, watching from the edge of the banister as she approached the last room in the hall. She knocked swiftly, waiting nervously and wringing her hands. She always was impatient. Then, after a long moment, the door opened. Jack couldn't see the person letting her inside from his angle on the stairwell, but he did see a muscular arm reach out and touch her hand as he pulled her inside.

Instantly, a flood of jealousy washed over him. Another man was in Mackenzie's life? Jack's jaw hardened, his fingers curling into fists. Should he blame her? After all, she had no recollection of the past, or of him. And this made him even angrier. How was he going to fix this?

Well first, he was going to take care of that bastard in the room with her. Jack descended back down the stairs, making his way down toward the barkeep. "Name of the man staying in the second room upstairs," he demanded.

It was most definitely not a question, the man behind the bar noted, but he was under strict orders. "I apologize sir, I cannot-"

Suddenly, his feet were off the ground, the infamous pirate's hands holding him up by his collar and his eyes a fiery black. "His name," Jack Sparrow growled.

"Kail McGrath," the man squeaked. He was known easily to crack under pressure.

Captain Sparrow was so shocked by this information that he dropped the barkeep completely, the man falling with a mad thump to the floor. Kail McGrath? No, this had to be a mistake. Mackenzie despised Kail McGrath! And most importantly, Jack did as well!

And then, suddenly it all made perfect sense. She didn't remember. She had no memory of McGrath putting two bullets in his chest or the scars he left on her body. She was abed for weeks after the ambush Kail and his men had wreaked upon the Black Pearl. Kail had nearly beaten her to death [it was a good fight until the end. Kail was just as bloody and worn down as she], and left her a crimson dormant heap upon the deck of Jack's ship; it was a warning sign, McGrath had said. It was just all part of the game.

Revenge, Jack considered. Maybe that is what this is all about; McGrath was using her to get back at him. And it was working. It suspiciously appeared that she was sleeping with the enemy.

Despite her longings, Mackenzie did not tell Kail about meeting Captain Jack Sparrow in the alley. He knew about the flee from the soldiers, knew about the fight and the man who had jumped her from out of nowhere. He had heard the word and the gossip from downstairs, but had not been surprised when she showed at his door. She had a lucky streak running throughout her veins. Somehow, you always escaped.

She was quiet, her eyes a bit wide with uncertain fear. "I didn't know where else to go."

Kail grinned, and there was no trace of sleep in his eyes. She found it strange that it was the middle of the night and yet he had not laid down for rest. With a slight wrinkle to her brow, she glanced over at the bed. The covers were not even turned down.

"I expected as much," Kail replied, and looked her bruised and weary form over with a curious eye. "What happened this time?"

"This time?" Mackenzie repeated, no doubt confused. "Is it normal for this to happen?"

"For you to come home with random scrapes and bruises? Yes," he told her, signaling for her to take a seat at the edge of the bed. She complied, and watched with bright blue eyes as he walked confidently over to the wash basin, a white cloth in hand. "You are always getting yourself into some type of trouble."

The few minutes she had spent in that alley with Jack Sparrow quickly flashed in her head. He had questioned something similar; what trouble she had gotten herself into this time. Mackenzie frowned; why did it seem that everyone was assuming she was getting herself into a mess?

"A man attacked me as I was walking past an alley by the docks," she explained to him.

Suddenly, Kail froze. "Did I not tell you to stay away from the docks?"

She was a bit bewildered at his cold tone. "You did. But something drew me there anyway; a memory. Well, it was close, anyway. A keen sense of familiarity… That's good, right?"

"Do not go back there," he told her. "Do you hear me?"

He had told her many times to stay away from the docks, and yet with still no explanation. Mackenzie did not understand; why did he want her to stay away from there? Did something happen there that he did not want her to know about? Perhaps he was fearful that she will remember something he only wants her to forget.

"I hear you, but I still do not understand. Why are the docks so horrible?"

Kail sighed in frustration. "You and a certain captain who is known to dock his ship there do not get along. If he realizes you no longer have any memory... well, he could take advantage of his personal vendettas against you. Do you understand now?"

A bit timidly [it was so unlike her], she nodded. But yet, she still had more questions to ask. "What is his name?"

Her curiosity once again drifted back to the handsome man who had saved her life earlier that night. Could he be the captain Kail was speaking of? But if he disliked her, why would he have done such a thing? Wouldn't he have enjoyed to see an enemy taken away and locked up, only to be executed the next morning? Or was he saving her fate to end himself?

Kail walked over, the cloth now soaked in water from the basin. He kneeled on the floor before her, brushing the auburn hair from her forehead. The cut there had left a trickle of dried blood across her white skin, but it did not look any worse than a simple scrape. "What?"

"The man's name, the captain with the vendetta?" Mackenzie replied.

Something briefly flashed across his dark eyes, but as soon as she noticed it, the spite and anger from his orbs were gone without a trace. "His name is best to remain unsaid."

Kail leaned forward, gently dabbing the cut with the cloth. The blood cleaned quickly and stung unpleasantly, but she did not flinch nor move under his ministrations. Perhaps she was used to such aid? "Like Macbeth," Mackenzie said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why is it that you remember books you've read and how to use a pistol, but yet you do not even recognize your own name?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly, recollecting the sound of her name as the pirate had said it earlier that night. It sounded different when he said it… and all though she did not understand, it sounded very pleasant. "I just do."

Kail was silent for a moment, and then tossed the cloth back into the wash basin. He was watching her intently, almost urgently. Those green eyes moved down from her eyes to her jaw, slowly following the pale skin until they reached her lips. She was known for her infamous beauty everywhere from gossip in the taverns to the books and stories told about the reckless adventures aboard the Black Pearl and for her love affair with that damned Jack Sparrow. Suddenly, that dangerous look returned to Kail's eyes. She was that wretched man's lass, and he had gone almost as far as killing her in spite of him. But now, he was going to elicit a fight to the end with the pirate a different way.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing almost harshly against hers. Caught off guard, she leaned back, her eyes narrowed in confusion and question. "What are you doing?" she asked him, her voice almost a whisper.

"Just close your eyes," he told her. "It's all right. Doesn't this seem familiar to you?"

He knew she was anything but virginal. She was the lover to a man who was known around the world for his various lusts and talents in these areas. Surely this didn't feel unknown to her.

But, somehow, it did. His kiss did not feel right, did not feel as though she imagined it should. The moment his lips touched hers a wave of guilt and nausea washed over her. Did it always feel this way? Feeling extremely lost and somewhat at his will, she did as he told her. Her almond eyes fluttered closed and suddenly she felt very vulnerable. And this emotion did not wear well on her.

Kail's lips kissed hers again before moving to her neck, his caresses cold and somewhat thoughtless. They did not feel intimate but unkind, almost sending her body into a wave of panic. It was enough feeling constantly lost and uncertain, but it was worse when she felt as though she had no control. Mackenzie did not want to be here, did not want him touching her. And yet, she stayed. It was as though she was nailed to the floorboards, her body stiff as a corpse. She was helpless.

"Relax," he whispered in her ear, and she felt his fingertips as they began untying the ribbons on the bodice of her dress. Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue in her mouth and suddenly she felt so sick that her head was spinning, and all she wanted was to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Mackenzie once again leaned away. "No. Stop, Kail."

He almost laughed. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want. . . this doesn't feel right. I can't."

Slowly, a grin pulled his mouth up. He looked almost happy that he has affected her this way. It disgusted her. "It will in a moment," he told her. "We haven't even begun."

She swallowed thickly as she felt the hot sting of tears raise from your throat to her eyes, but they did not spill over. "I thought I could trust you."

"Who says you can't?"

"Instinct is all I have right now. And my instincts are telling me this isn't right."

He reached for her again, but she quickly backed herself towards the door. "Touch me again and you will not make it out of this room alive."

He laughed again and raised his palms in defense, grinning at her insecurities and yet constant confidence. He supposed nothing would ever change. She can't even remember his face or his name and yet she is still threatening him. And then he watched, part in spite and part in admiration, as she quickly fled from the room.

The moment Mackenzie was outside of that blasted room, she broke out into sobs. She felt so insecure, so used and betrayed. She thought she had one person she could trust, one person that she could turn to in all these millions of miles of strangers. Now she really was alone. She leaned back against the wall, allowing her knees to go weak as she slid sobbing to the floor. Her hands covering her shameful face, she let herself vent her frustrations, her fears and her constant uncertainties into a blanket of warmth.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. When she looked up under damp eyelashes, she saw that goddamned pirate captain standing before her, a somewhat shocked and unsure expression on his face.

"Didn't I tell you to leave me the hell alone?" Mackenzie demanded from him, her voice weak and breaking from her tears.

He kneeled down before her. "I'm not about to leave you alone like this." Then, he touched her face with slow, gentle fingers, as though he was uncertain whether or not she would allow him to do so. She froze and tensed instantly, although she did not fight against him. It was a simple caress, just a mere touch of his fingertips before the warm caress left instantly, leaving the heat of his skin to slowly fade on her flushed cheek. "What happened?" he asked gently, "Did he..."

Mackenzie swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling most depleted. Her blue eyes closed on their own accord for a long moment, unsure what to do or what to say. "Prove to me that you know me," she said before the words registered.

When she opened her eyes, Jack Sparrow looked anything but the spiteful and horrible man that Kail made him out to be. But it was the feeling of serenity and comfort that washed over your form that really scared her. When around Kail, she did not necessarily feel safe but desperate and unsure.

"How am I to do such a thing when you know nothing of yourself to begin with?" he replied.

Good point. "That is for you to convince me," she replied. Even if he was the enemy, part of her didn't care. She wanted to trust and believe her instincts. She needed this security that he was silently offering her. Mackenzie was so tired of being scared and alone.

"All right," he said, and crouched down before her. "That tattoo on your back? Just below the right shoulder blade? I did that. You squirmed at first, but I eventually talked you into it. Pissed you off by not telling you what it was of. A sparrow," he explained, and raised the sleeve on his right arm to reveal his own tattoo of the bird. "All I asked was for you to trust me."

His eyes were looking at her so closely, so intimately, that she felt utterly naked under his gaze. She fidgeted in a nervous manner. "I didn't realize I had a tattoo," she confessed quietly.

He grinned. "Believe me, darling. It's there."

A sparrow? If he was telling her the truth, then that would mean these close feelings of familiarity and [desire?] intimacy have a large significance. This would mean that she was literally marked as his, his symbol permanently etched deep into her skin.

"Good enough?"

She fought the urge smile at his cocky expression and honest eyes. "Try again," she told him. His lips twitched up into a little smile, and something inside her stomach fluttered. Butterflies.

"You were born in London, your father was a horrible drunk, you loathe the taste of whiskey, your favorite pair of knickers are red, and I gave you the first and only string of pearls you possess." And then, to top it off, he leaned in close to your ear, his lips only centimeters from tasting your skin. "Shall I go on?"

You give him a warning look. "If you are lying to me, Sparrow, I will find out. And it won't be pleasant when I do." [Please be a good enough liar that I do not find a thing to turn against you with.]

He smiled again. "Trust me, love. I know."

It was so tempting to take her at that moment. With her blue eyes shining at him and her cheeks damp with shedding tears. But Jack was sure to control himself, for it would be better for Mackenzie in the end. He wasn't about to take advantage of her because of her current forgetful and obviously disheveled state. She meant more to him than that. And then, he heard footsteps from inside the room behind them.

"Come," he said to her, extending his hand.

She was hesitant, but after a moment she placed her palm in his and he quickly pulled her to her feet and with a hand innocently placed at the small of her back, lead her down the stairs and into the tavern.

It was a complete mess. People were talking most loudly and openly about the murder in the alley, the very alley Mackenzie was in not a half hour ago. They paid no attention to her as she passed, but due to the crowd and enthusiastic storytelling, their exit was delayed longer than what Jack would have hoped.

"I saw it with my own eyes!" one man exclaimed, rising to his feet and extending his arm. "He was huge! Killed the man without seconds thought!"

"Why did he do it?" The woman next to him questioned, her brown eyes wide with curiosity and her painted lips parted.

"Heard the man stepped on the others foot," a sailor replies, nodding his head enthusiastically.

God, these people were sickening, Mackenzie thought. Making up stories and such about the murder that she herself committed in order to entertain themselves. What was wrong with them?

A man from the other side of the room spoke up casually, his uniform pressed and brass buttons nearly sparkling in the candlelight. A soldier. "You all are fools. It wasn't even a man who committed the crime," he told them calmly, taking a sip from his brandy.

"A woman?" one of the barmaids suggested. "You must be mistaken, sir. I heard this was a brutal murder! The beating heart torn from the man's chest! What kind of woman could do that?"

Jack was feeling a bit restless. The soldier was eyeing the two of them closely as they tried to push past to the door, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Surely he did not know who Mackenzie was and what she had done. Did he?

"No," the man replied simply. "It was just a simple shot to the chest. And it -was- a woman; we chased her down the road until she disappeared into the shadows."

"The Lady of Shadows," another piped up. "Did she resemble a crow? I always heard the Lady of Shadows resembled a crow. Real quick too, like a fox, and beautiful like a minx."

But the soldier shook his head. "No, she didn't resemble a crow. She was quick, that's for sure, with white skin and bright eyes. The most ravishing criminal I've ever seen," he said with a grin, his eyes still not moving from Mackenzie. She looked everywhere but at him. The fear washed over her skin; she was shaking.

"Where do you think she is?"

"Maybe she fled to the docks!"

The redcoat was obviously having other thoughts. "Oh, I don't think she's gone too far."

Jack pulled Mackenzie close to his side, wrapping an arm about her waist and spoke close to her ear. "Relax," he whispered. "The bastard doesn't know a thing."

And then, just as the door was in sight, a red uniform appeared before them. "Stop there, miss."

Mackenzie looked up, her eyes giving nothing away. But her shaking hands, they were what she was worried about. She quickly hid them beneath her cloak, quickly pulling them out of sight. Jack was right; this man didn't know a thing. The soldiers had not been close enough to see her face or touch her skin; they had no proof.

"Is there a problem?" Jack said in response. She was shocked. He was protecting her once again?

"You speak for her?" the soldier questioned.

The captain of the Black Pearl nodded. "Aye, I do."

"Are you her husband?"

"Aye," Jack responded once more. What was he up to? She was not wearing a ring; therefore Jack was lying to the officer. What if he asked to see her hand?

"Is she armed?" the soldier asked, his penetrating eyes boring into Mackenzie's.

"Why would she be armed? She has no enemies."

Those icy orbs turned to Jack. "Do you?"

She almost expected the pirate to reach out and grab him by the neck, but alas, he did not. "What is the problem here?"

"There was a disturbance earlier. A man was shot and killed down by the docks. My men and I were close by and heard the commotion. We chased a woman who was quickly fleeing the area. Dark hair, blue dress," the man's eyes traveled from Mackenzie's scuffed shoes and over her blue skirts, torn and dirtied. It sure looked as though she had been in a brawl, that was for sure. And the cut on her right temple only made matters worse.

Jack did not like the sight of his wandering eyes on her form. His jaw clenched tightly, but somehow he managed to keep his cool composure. "Nonsense, she has been with me all night, I assure you."

"Upstairs?" he asked. Jack nodded. "What were you doing?"

A sly grin grew on the pirate's face. "Would you really like me to say such things in the presence of ladies?"

The soldier seemed to be quickly running out of patience. "Where did you get that cut upon your forehead, miss?"

You took a nervous breath and were about to open your mouth and reply with a shaky lie when Jack beat you to the chase. "Fell off a horse during our travels here. She hasn't quite got the hang of side saddle just yet."

"Why don't you let the lady speak for herself?" the man questions with a cocky raise of his eyebrow.

Mackenzie swallows. "Tis true, sir. My balance is obviously not something to boast of."

"Is that so?"

She pulled her cloak closer to her skin. She felt so exposed under those accusing eyes and blaming voice as she nodded in response. "Yes, sir."

"So let me get this straight… you are accusing my wife of committing this crime simply because of the color of her hair and the dress she picked out this morning?" Jack complies.

The soldier looks anything but offended. "I am not accusing anyone of anything, mister. . ."

"Smith," Jack says instantly.

". . .Smith. I am just asking innocent questions. Tis my job, you see."

Jack, in return, does not look in the least bit intimidated. "Perhaps you should be finding the person whom murdered that poor bastard instead of interrogating an innocent woman," he suggested.

And then, Jack leads said guilty woman out the door, leaving the soldier to stand in silence. He knows nothing, Mackenzie reminded herself. They will not arrest her if they have no proof. She will not hang before the sun comes up. In fact, she doesn't believe Jack would let them. And that thought gave her a little more confidence in the man walking beside her. If he didn't care, if he only wanted her dead, then why would he be going through all the trouble to save her life?

"Why are you doing this?" she questioned him once they were out of hearing rage from the tavern.

"I told you, darling," Jack replied, "I'm not about to leave you alone like this."

Alone? Frightened? Clueless? Yes, that was how she had been feeling since she woke up in that alley weeks ago, absolutely no memory as to who or where she was. It was a few hours later when she ran into a man who claimed to be Kail McGrath, an old friend of hers. But now, she was not so sure he was a friend at all.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To an inn outside of town," he replied. Mackenzie tensed at the thought. Was he expecting the same as Kail was? But then, he added, "You tired?"

Jack could see how exhausted she looked. He glanced at the way her posture relaxed a bit out of the corner of his eye, the way her lips parted to release an almost silent breath of air. Had she assumed he was taking her to the inn to do otherwise? Of course she had; and the pirate captain didn't blame her. After all, if she was herself, that's exactly what he'd be doing; making love to her until daybreak, until the very moment she would beg him to stop, until she was on the brink of insanity. Jack dug his fingers into his palms with the thought. It's what he very much wanted to do. But as he looked at her thin and spent form, he reminded himself that this would take some time. She would take some time.