The shadows shifted around a figure, like night around the moon. The figure stood bright, but the envious shadows tried to take her over. Her cloak was silver against the pale wood of the tavern. Her head was down against the wind, her hood drawn carefully.

One soft leather boot took a step forward, then another. Soon she was strolling down the streets of Tortuga, like there was nothing to it.

The streets of the port were well lit with the windows and lamps and taverns and inns. The cobbles were covered in grime and horse dung, a ripe smell that took up the night. The Old Maid Inn loomed up in her vision and she turned into the door.

The downstairs tavern was roaring with laughter, and the heat was almost stifling. Her eyes watered against the smell of unbathed man and her feet left scuffs on the dirty floors. She made her way across the room to the doorway that loomed silently over the bar wenches and drunken men.

It was her shift and she had just come from her house. She had to go upstairs to change out of her male clothing. They wouldn't let a bar maid wear men's clothing. The whole reason they were there was to attract the customers.

Amara had just come from a reading. She had read a man who was to die within the next few days, or so his lifeline told her. Her living was made as a bar wench and as a gypsy. Interesting combination there.

A man in the far corner watched her go. He sat in the shadows, clothed in what seemed to be pirate clothes.

She has to know. The person thought. She has to help.

Amara re-emerged looking like a wench. Her long wavy black hair was tied into ringlets and her silver eyes had been ringed with kohl. Her dress, which was blue and white stripes, was cut dangerously low and her soft boots had turned into dirty slippers. She looked absolutely miserable.

"Kila!" called the barman. It was her name at the bar, so no one would know her real name. Her eyes were kind of telltale though "Attend to the man in the left corner, aye?"

"Yes Tom." She replied meekly.

She sashayed her way over to the table, a false seductive smile plastered onto her face. As she walked she made sure her breasts moved just enough to be alluring but not like a whore. Her face was a perfect mask as a man grabbed her hind quarters. It happened every night. It was what she was here for.

"'ello sir, what can I get ye?" she asked in her best bar wench voice.

"Rum, please Amara."

"Yes sir…" she said as she began to walk away. She stopped.

Had he just said my real name?

She whirled around and looked at the man, her mouth hanging open.

"Aye, I just called you Amara. I know who you are Amara. Jack told me about you, those five years ago when you met."

"Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow, and yes he did."

"Bugger."

"I need your help, Jack is in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"He's dead."

"Oh." Now she understood the sadness in those eyes. "How can I help you help him if he is dead. It does not seem to be a plausible feat considering you know that I know that Jack is utterly dead."

"Barbossa is crewing a ship to roam uncharted waters, off the edge of the world."

"Isn't Barbossa dead?"

"Was dead. Was. He came back the same way Jack is going to be coming back. Across the uncharted seas. And I need your help to find him."

"Who are you?" Amara asked, now curious.

"I am Will Turner."

"I've heard of you sir, how is Elizabeth?"

"She doesn't matter." He dismissed it.

She turned to look at Tom, who winked and smiled at her. He had set this up. Bastard. He flapped his hand at her, in a signal to go.

"Fine, I'll help. On one condition though."

"What is that?"

"I get my own cabin."

Will laughed a full throated laughed, that almost startled Amara out of her own dress when she tripped on it. He eyes lit up and her face brightened, and it was almost an instant reaction. It amazed her.

"Of course. I wasn't going to make you stay with the crew. They tend to, well, get a little carried away."

"One question though. Who has the heart?"

"Will's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"I'm a gypsy I know these things."

"Cutler Beckett. "

"Oh bugger."

"Yes."

"Isn't he the head of East India? I mean, he's in Port Royal now, isn't he? He's taken over most of the ports, and rumor has it that Davy Jones is rampant again, attacking ships that aren't on Beckett's list."

"Aye, Norrington gave it to him after he stole it from Jack. He's commodore again. He's on the high seas too."

"Well then. Off to my shop we go."

IOIOIOIO

The shop was darker, with rich purple walls and fabric in peacock green and royal blue hung. It looked somewhat like a tent. Rows of jingling coins and feathers hung from random places and it smelled distinctly of incense. Lavender.

In the middle of the room sat a table. Tarot cards were set to the side. Rune stones lay off to another and a crystal ball sat near the large chair in the back. A lace cloth covered the table.

"Ah home." Sighed Amara.

"Nice…..abode? You've got here."

"Why thank you."

"Sit at the table; I'm going to look into the ball."

Will sat at the table, a bit uncomfortably. His Christian beliefs said that this kind of craft was bad, but then again he was now almost officially a pirate. What did it matter now? Elizabeth wasn't his anymore and….

"It is in this, great mother, I ask you to show me Jack Sparrow and where he may lie."

Will sat forward.

The ball began to swirl white, shapes shifting through the smoke, or so Will saw. Amara's still kohl lined eyes widened.

"He is beyond the first gate of the Dark waters. His spirit is there, but where is his body? Ah. The Kraken."

Amara's eyes had turned dark, almost the color of tarnished silver. Her face had gone gaunt and her eyes looked haunted. "He remembers me." Was all she said. Her face had gone paler (if possible) and memories flowed past her eyes like water. Pain flashed across her face and she looked at Will.

"Jack is in trouble."

"Obviously."

Amara shot Will a venomous glare.

"The Guardian wants him to stay."

"Bloody hell Jack, does everything have it out for you?" Will sighed.

"You've got to make a fair trade for his soul."

"And who would be a fair trade?"

Amara smiled. "I know just the person."

IOIOIOIOIO

"Captain James Mortan? Are you bloody mad? Amara, stop!" Will called. "James Mortan," he shook his head. "Bloody crazy women."

"I heard that. And I am not crazy." Amara was at least ten steps ahead of him, almost running, to the port. "You have a ship right?"

"Obviously."

Amara turned back to look at Will. The glare she gave him would have killed him on the spot, if looks could kill.

"What? How else would I get onto Tortuga?"

"Swim."

The docks loomed ahead of them. Ship masts towered into the sky, like spears of warriors. Most of the sails were tied, a few were not. The sky was dark, and the water was choppy today. The boats rocked back and forth, creaking.

"We're on The Halifax. We borrowed the ship from a friend of Anamaria's. Who is still not too happy about it, since technically it is her ship. She just hasn't finished paying for it yet." Will stated.

"It's a bout time I get off this island."

"We set sail tomorrow morning. You have time to get whatever you need. The Halifax is, well here, I'll show you where she is."

"Can't we leave tonight?"

"No, most of the crew isn't back."

"Well bugger them, then."

"This is the Halifax. One of the fastest ships at sea."

"Not as fast as the Black Pearl though." Came a rough and gravelly voice.

"Gibbs, nothing will ever be like the Black Pearl." Will's face fell.

"Aye, I know it."

"I know it too. And Will, you had better not sink my ship, aye?" came Anamaria's voice from the deck of the Halifax.

"Alright. Go and Get what you may need Amara, and meet me here tomorrow morning."

"Alright." Amara walked away.

Anamaria stared at her. "I remember her mate, she's going to be something else Will."

IOIOIOIOIOIO

Amara's mind was totally scattered. She couldn't think of what to bring and what not to bring. "Bugger, bugger, bloody hell and bullocks. Bloody boats…ships…what do you wear on a ship?"

"Breeches, shirts and undergarments I would assume. Hats also." Advised a voice.

"Shut up Will."

"No."

Amara turned and gave him her most evil glare, and then threw a pillow at him.

"Bugger off Will."

"Fine. Just thought you might like to know we're leaving port early."

And he walked out.

"When?" she called.

"Now."

He called back.

"Oh bugger." She cursed.

She heard laughing in the distance.

"Bastard."

IOIOIOIO

Second chapter, tell me what you think. And if you haven't seen PotC: II don't read this.