Chapter 2

Author: PiratessDesire

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

A/N: I've decided to use the base of DMC for the next few chapters so some of the story will seem familiar, but I'm going to start to stray. Some of the facts are different like the black spot which doesn't exist in this story because it scares me. But for the most part, the material is original. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Elizabeth has decided to leave behind her wedding and her life at Port Royal, but what does she plan to do now? Jack is taking a break from the sea, but something's got him vexed and the omens don't end there...

~•~

Elizabeth boarded a small rowboat and began rowing to the merchant vessel that was anchored slightly off shore. She grabbed a hold of one of the ropes that held the ship in place, and began to climb up to the deck. Her bare feet touched the wood silently. She scurried across the deck and crept down the stairs that led to the lower decks.

"Where is the storage room?" Elizabeth asked out loud, inspecting the area. She opened a door and peered inside. She sighed in relief, realizing that it was indeed a store room. She locked the door behind her and roamed deeper into the room. Spying some extra sailor clothes on a far shelf, her hands grabbed them as she began to dawn her disguise.

She slipped out of her gown and shoved it into a sack after dumping out the apples that previously occupied it. Using some bandages from the medicinal cabinet, she wrapped her breasts and suppressed them as much as she could to appear less feminine. She pulled on some loose trousers and a sailor shirt. She pulled the strings of the shirt and trousers tight to hide anything that could reveal her true identity.

Elizabeth looked at her reflection in a bottle of rum and noticed that her face still needed to appear more manly. She pulled the pins out of her styled hair and let it hang loose. She pulled it up and pinned it into a tight bun. A tricorne hat adorned her head as she once again checked her reflection. She definitely appeared more manly but her flawless skin made her look more like an aristocrat than a sailor.

She looked around the room for something that would stain her skin and make her appearance more ghastly and dirty. She spotted an old lantern and rubbed her fingers into the soot. Her face twisted in disgust as the ash spread across her clean skin. Her eyes fluttered open and finally they were able to accept that her appearance was that of a sailor.

Any belongings that were still accompanying her were stuffed into the burlap sack along with her cotton gown. Elizabeth swung the sack over her shoulder and opened the door to the lower decks. The place was still empty but the crew were bound to come back soon. Judging by the number of hammocks that hung from the ceiling, there were many crew members that tended to the vessel despite its small size.

Elizabeth surveyed each hammock until she came upon a few without an owner. She stowed the sack in the least tattered of them and claimed it as her own. She made sure that it was properly stowed and, more importantly, hidden from any curious eyes.

Once she reached the top deck again, she acted casually and bit into an apple she'd taken from the sack before leaving the rest on the shelf. One of the crew members that she had snuck past on her way down greeted her with a nod of his head and she did the same. Noise came bustling towards the ship as a few boats pulled up to the ship and began unloading. Elizabeth blended into the mass as she helped unload the items.

"Hey lad, help me with these crates, why don't ya" a hefty sailor asked her while handing her a box of potatoes. Elizabeth took the box from him and smiled as she turned to take it down to the store room.

"They think I'm actually one of them," she whispered to herself as she put the box on a shelf.

"Now it's all just a matter of getting them to sail to a port where I can sneak off... But where?" Her eyes glinted in the light of the lanterns that hung by her as she smiled deviously.

"Tortuga."

~•~

The Black Pearl, Tortuga:

"Mister Gibbs, I need someone to go into town to buy more rum. The damn stuff is always gone!" Jack ordered as he sauntered about the deck of his beloved Pearl. He placed his hands on the rail and gazed out at the horizon where the darkening sea merged against the twilight sky. He smiled at the sight and closed his kohl covered eyes.

"Are you thinking about her again?" A feminine voice asked from beside him. He looked up to see Anamaria leaning her back against the railing. He sighed and smirked at the question.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He asked, trying to avoid the question she'd asked. She stood straight and walked closer to him. Stopping only a few inches away, she crossed her arms in front of her and cocked her head to the side. Jack could tell that she was coming dangerously close to penetrating the shield he kept on his emotions, so he resorted to witty quips as defense.

"Anamaria, do you take me for some touchy-feely, pathetic whelp like that Will Turner." His eyebrows furrowed and he frowned at the mention of the lad's name. He didn't know why but his so called mate had become slightly repulsive to him lately, but he didn't know, or at least didn't want anyone else to know, why. Anamaria giggled slightly, before covering her mouth to stifle it when she noticed Jack scowling at her.

"Jack, you are so witty and smart, but yet remain so unbelievably ignorant when it comes to your own feelings," she sympathized in a way that made Jack feel slightly embarrassed at his own lack of understanding. He shuffled his feet and wrung his hands nervously while staring at the sea.

Then, without another word on the subject, left to badger Gibbs some more about the lack of rum aboard the vessel. Anamaria sighed and rested her hands on the side of the ship.

"Oh Captain. When will you admit that you love her? I guess it seems difficult considering her getting married and all, not to mention your own ego, but you can't keep torturing yourself like this with thoughts of her," she said to herself as she rubbed the black wood.

She looked into the last rays of light the sun had to offer for the day and whispered, "Perhaps, if your destinies are meant to intertwine once more, it will be you instead of Turner who wins Elizabeth's heart."

~•~

The Keeper:

It had been about three days since Elizabeth had stowed away on the Keeper. Her dress had escaped her custody and was found by the quartermaster. In a rather short period of time, he had the whole crew believing that it belonged to the spirit of a maiden looking for her husband who died at sea. At that point, Elizabeth had finally figured out the one place where she had a shot at finding someone she knew.

Using the ghost story, she had made the crew believe that the "spirit" wished to be taken to the port she had written on the deck of the ship with fire...Tortuga. Now she was but a few miles away from the port where she would sneak off and try to find her friend, the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. It still surprised her how she was one of the few people in the world who could genuinely refer to him as a friend.

She tucked her knees into her chest as she stared out into the sea from her high perch in the crow's nest. Could she actually refer to him as a friend? They had shared more than a few heart-to-heart conversations. He understood her so damn well. Did that make him merely a friend? Her cheeks flushed as she thought of the first time they had ever met.

He had just saved her from drowning thanks to her dreadful corset. She remembered seeing his wet face hovering over her when she regained consciousness. As she looked back, she realized how strikingly handsome he was on that day, and pretty much every day that followed.

After being caught by the Royal Navy, it was remarkable how quickly he formulated a plan to escape. When he wound his manacled wrists over Elizabeth's head and around her throat, in all truth, she was only startled for a second. She was far to hypnotized by her captor.

As he made his demands, she was only half paying attention to his words. She had never been so close to a man before because of the "sense of propriety" she had to maintain. But, if she was to be honest, it felt so bloody good. His chest was so muscular and warm and the cool, smooth feel of his manacles were a striking contrast.

When he requested her to help him put in his effects, she displayed a distasteful expression towards the pirate. But as she buckled his belt and wound it around his waist, she felt incredibly aroused.

His head playfully massaged itself against her neck and shoulder, and even though she knew he was just annoying her father and the Commodore, she couldn't help but smile at the rush that went through her at the action. Actually, that encounter with Jack had been the most exciting thing in her life at that point in time. He was indeed impressive.

His dark eyes were absolutely mesmerizing and they were the perfect fit for every other amazing thing about him. His black, tangled hair to his tanned, sharp features to his lean, muscular body all made him an embodiment of perfection.

His personality was no less unique. You could scour the entire globe, and you still wouldn't find someone with a personality as charming, mysterious, clever, or appealing as that of Jack Sparrow. He just made her feel something so special, something that she had never felt before and couldn't really explain. But she did know that this strange feeling was one of the reasons she'd run away from her wedding with Will.

She had to find Jack. She didn't know what she was going to do once she found him, but she just had to be in his embrace. He might not welcome her into one, but just the mere sight of him would help her so much. The meaning behind this fondness she felt toward him was unclear, but at the moment it was unimportant. All that mattered was that the emotion was present and seeing him was the only thing that would provide her with the peace of mind she so desperately craved.

"I'm coming for you Jack," she whispered as she took in a swig of rum from the bottle that rested beside her. Her recent development in drinking habits didn't concern her. She was going to find Jack. The rest will play out per fate's intentions.

~•~

It was late at night in Tortuga which normally meant drinking rum and flirting with saucy wenches for Jack. But even when his crew invited him to accompany them to his favorite tavern, the Faithful Bride, he had declined. Now he was sitting at his desk and doing some lazy cartography. He dropped his charcoal pencil down on the wood and reached for his rum bottle.

"Why is the rum always gone?" He sighed as he banged the bottle back down on the desk. He got up and made his way down to the storage room in hopes of finding another bottle. The room was moist and the stench was unbearable even for him. This was certainly not his favorite place to be, but it was either this or going to town, and he was in no mood to get slapped by his ex-girlfriends who he'd inevitably run into.

After some searching, he found one bottle. He began dusting it of when he heard a voice behind him, and dropped the rum in shock, causing it to shatter into a million pieces.

"Time's up Jack," the voice said ominously. Jack crept in the direction and saw a man, grotesque looking, resembling a sea creature of sorts. The face became increasingly familiar as the man turned around.

"Bootstrap," Jack gasped as the man's identity became clear to him.

"You look good Jack," Bootstrap said as he grabbed a cockroach and shoved it into his mouth. Jack merely stared at him, not knowing how to respond to the statement. He began talking to Bootstrap about whether this was a dream or not, and then they began to talk about his mutiny and what happened to Bootstrap after that.

"That's what happens when you strike a deal with devil," Jack said, as Bootstrap told him of how he was indebted to serve on board the Flying Dutchman.

"You struck a deal with him too Jack," Bootstrap said hovering his face precariously above Jack's head.

"He raised the Pearl from the depths for you. Now it's time for you to pay the price. One hundred years of service aboard the Dutchman," he reminded Jack. He didn't need to be reminded of his debt to Davy Jones.

"You've been captain of the Pearl for thirteen years Jack."

"Well, actually I was only captain for..." Jack began, but was interrupted by Bootstrap's booming voice.

"You can't talk yourself out of this one Jack. Jones's leviathan will hunt you down," he warned as he moved slightly away from him.

Jack trembled a little at the mention of the leviathan and asked timidly, "Do you know when Jones will release said terrible beastie?"

Bootstrap chuckled in way that sent chills down Jack's back, and then said, "I already told you Jack. Your time is up." And with that he was gone. Jack's head spun around and he felt the entire world go hazy. Suddenly a piercing pain struck through his brain. Jack grunted and held his head in his hands. After a few excruciating seconds, the pain began to wash away.

Jack staggered back to his cabin, without the bottle of rum he'd set out to get, but it wouldn't do him much good now anyway. He sat down on his bed and began removing his effects. He figured a night's sleep of any nature might do him some good. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. He was now only in his brown trousers, which he found was the most comfortable way for him to sleep.

He lay down on his back and propped his head slightly up with his arm. His eyes began to close and pretty soon he was well into a rather disturbed sleep. His life was in turmoil and for once, he didn't have a clue on what he could do.

~•~

To be continued...