*I'd like to apologize in advance for the French in this portion of the story. It was translated from English using Google and is therefore undoubtedly horrendous. Thank you for baring with me and please enjoy.*

"I don't believe a word of that story." Emera said, setting her empty glass onto the table.

"What's not to believe?" Jack mused, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, first off," She tried to look serious but couldn't keep a straight face, "where did you find the rope? Did it just fall from the sky?"

Jack blew air through his lips and waved a hand at her lazily before leaning forward over the small table, "I spun it myself... from… from... seaweed."

Emera snorted a laugh, "Right. I'd have thought you'd use hair. Or something t' that effect, at least."

"And where, pray tell, would I find that much hair?" He wrinkled his nose at the idea.

"Yer the brilliant Pirate-adventurer, Captain Jack Sparrow." She waggled her fingers for dramatic effect, "You tell me."

Jack laughed. It was a wistfully light sort of chuckle that happened somewhere in his throat. Emera's mouth instinctively stretch out into a wide smile. She never would have guessed, based on his appearance, that he'd be capable of producing something so pure. Evidently, she was wrong. Jack rubbed his hand over his mouth and shook his head a little as the laugh subsided. He flashed Emera a smile when he noticed her own. The soft candle light glinted off of his teeth, catching the young sailor's eye.

"Could it be, Miss Flint, that you're warming up to me, after all?" He asked, leaning in over the table.

"Are yer teeth capped in gold, Jack?" She changed the subject, not ready to answer that question just yet for fear the answer might be in his favor.

"Aye, a few." He replied, setting down his rum and scooting his chair around to her side of the table.

Jack settled in close to Emera's side. He pulled his lips away from his teeth, showing off the gold in his mouth. Two on the bottom and one up top on the left side. Despite the fact that Emera knew such modifications were made to repair hygiene related damage, they did make him look rather dashing. They fit well with his flamboyant appearance, suited his outlandish personality. Everything about him, from the way he looked to the way he talked and moved worked to support his captivating nature. He was a mystery wrapped up in a riddle that liked nothing more than to talk about himself. Emera suspected that, had they enough time, he would gladly regale her with the whole of his life story just so he could see the look on her face as he did it. And, she had to admit, that once she got past all the swagger and showiness, he was in fact rather charming and agreeable. He had a funny way of talking, which Emera liked, and a predisposition for story-telling, which Emera admired.

"You know, Darling," He said, sounding sure of himself, "You would look rather fetching with a few caps yourself."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"It would suit you quite well." He smiled again, leaning in even closer.

"Ya think so, do you?" She glanced at the arm he was slowly wrapping around her shoulders.

"I do." He raised his chin, trying to look incredibly serious.

Emera rolled her eyes, "Alright then, which?"

Placing his hands on either side of her face, he used his thumbs to pull her lips this way and that in order to give him the best possible view of her teeth. Emera didn't know where to look as he examined her. He was mere centimeters from her face and she was keenly aware of both his hands and his eyes. She had only just met this man and yet, for the second time since their meeting he was well into her personal space. However, the discomfort came not from his proximity to her but, rather, from the absolute lack in discomfort it caused her. She was completely comfortable with all of it. With his hands on her face, with his knee pressing against hers, with the arm that had been around her shoulders not moments ago. And that in itself was something very unusual for her indeed.

As it turned out, the teeth Jack recommended for fixing were those that were badly crooked. Emera's mouth was a mess, that she knew. He touched a thumb lightly to the tooth that sat second to the right on the top row of her mouth. It hadn't come in right and sat just behind the two that bordered it. Emera couldn't help but recall the way she had bit down on his palm.

"That one in particular, though." He mused and released her from his gentle grip.

"I'll take it into consideration." She looked down at the table, trying to collect her thoughts, then said, "Ya know... you never told me why you were on that island in the first place."

Emotion flashed across Jack's face. In the time it took to blink, whatever it had been vanished back under his skin. Perhaps Emera had been wrong in her assumption that he was perpetually prepared to talk about his life. Jack forced a smile as he leaned back in his chair, putting a noticeable distance between himself and her. He shifted uncomfortably. It was as though his clothes were suddenly too tight. Or maybe it was his skin. Either way, he was quiet for such a long time that Emera was certain her question had spoiled the whole evening.

Then he finally said, "It's not a pretty story, Love."

"I'm sure I'll manage." She coaxed, her voice carefully gentle.

"I'm not the sort what delves into his personal life." He shook his head, taking a deep drink from his rum bottle.

"You're entitled t' yer secrets." Emera said, trying not to snort at the hypocrisy.

But she understood what he meant. Regaling someone with an exciting story of one's exploits was one thing. Speaking truth to something that shaped your very identity or forged you as a person was another thing entirely. From what Emera had seen pass on his face, this looked to be the latter. She slid her hand across the surface of the table to where his sat. For a moment, the young sailor hesitated. Then she lightly covered the tips of his fingers with her own. Jack smiled at her, but there was a kind of melancholy present in it.

"Jack…" She nearly whispered, struggling to find something to say.

He looked past her, across the room, and at once his whole manner changed. Sadness was quickly pushed aside in favor of what looked to be mild panic. Emera followed his gaze, trying to spot what had changed him so quickly. Standing at the bar, waiting to be served, was the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen. She couldn't have been much taller than Emera was and had a slender, yet strong, frame. Her dark skin almost glowed in the low candlelight of the tavern. Her clothes, like Jack's, were tattered. But they were far cleaner than his. Like Emera, she was dressed in dark trousers and a loose fitting shirt. She also wore a pale grey frock coat which looked to be two sizes too big for her. A light orange and brown bandana (that had seen better days) was wrapped around her head, keeping her long loose waves of black hair back from her lovely face.

"That… girl... I mentioned earlier…" Jack didn't look away from where she stood.

"Aye?"

He nodded towards the young woman, "That's her."

Emera finally tore her eyes away, "You… you brought me here on purpose. You knew she'd be here."

"Did not." He defended himself, then quickly gave in with a shrug, "Well, maybe."

"Why do ya want me t' talk to her so badly, anyway?" She asked, "Why can't you just do it yourself?"

"You see," Jack kept his voice low, "Anamaria, that's her name, and I had a falling out of sorts. A bad one. She won't have anything to do with me now."

"What happened?" Emera asked, furrowing her brow.

He made a groaning sound in the back of his throat and shook his head.

"Jack, if ya want my help you've got t' tell me." She said flatly.

He sighed, "I broke off our courtship and she's not fully forgiven me yet. I suppose I could have done it better. But it was years ago and rather a lot has happened in the meantime. So much, in fact, that I can't see why she won't just let it go. I was very found of her… but… Well, all that doesn't really matter. I need to know where her fishing boat is. There are too many docks on this island to search for the ruddy thing myself. Convince her to tell you where it is, eh?"

"Why do ya need t' know where it is?" Emera narrowed her eyes.

Jack waved her off with one hand, eyes locked on his ex-sweetheart again, "Doesn't matter why. Just do. Go now. Before she sees us and the whole thing gets spoiled."

Emera groaned, leaning her head on the table in surrender, "Alright. What was her name, then? Ana-something?"

"Anamaria." He prodded her shoulder, "Don't mention me."

"I won't."

Emera pushed herself up from the table and set to crossing the tavern. As she approached the bar her stomach rolled with butterflies. Why was she so nervous? The young woman turned away from the bar slightly, giving Emera a full view of her face again. Ah, that was why. She was breathtaking. Dark and lovely eyes, full lips, fine features. Emera had no idea how to even begin talking to a girl like the one before her. She had little experience with conversing with other women. Glancing back at Jack for help, he merely flashed her a broad smile, mouthed something she couldn't make out and gestured to the girl. Emera sighed. She was on her own then. When she reached the bar she gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white with the strain. If she could just say 'hello' maybe it would be enough to ease herself into a casual enough conversation. Emera opened her mouth, but anything that might have followed was lost before it even had the chance to come forth.

The sound of a table being overturned and glass shattering against the floor silenced the crowded tavern. Emera whipped around and, at once, forgot all about the girl. She was just in time to see Jack (who was standing on his chair) kick one of two large men flat in the face. He stumbled backwards over the wrongside-up table and slip in the strune remains of her empty glass and Jack's rum bottle. He landed on the floor hard enough to shake nearby tables. His friend grabbed for Jack. Emera watched in amazement as he used the round chandelier hanging from the ceiling to swing past his attacker. The two men were unmistakably the pair responsible for Emera and Jack's introduction. And the one still conscious was none too pleased at having Jack slip past him for the second time in one day. In his effort to catch him, the lumbering man collided with a group of sailors. The fight quickly spread across the tavern floor. Swords were drawn and fists flew in every direction.

A shot from a pistol plowed into the wall not a foot away from Emera's head. She dropped instantly, hitting the deck full on. Her chest and forearms slapped against the wood of the floor as she made contact but the sting was the least of her concerns as she scrambled under the nearest table. Her eyes locked on the door across the room. Her only path, however, was completely blocked by the raging dispute that occupied the center of the tavern. And what was worse, Jack was suddenly nowhere in sight. The girl, Anamaria, was also gone. Emera muttered a curse under her breath and prayed that she would make it out in one piece.

Just as Emera was calculating her chances of getting around the bar a figure dropped to the floor beside her. Emera shot a look over her shoulder expecting to see Jack, but was met by the cheerful gaze of a young woman she'd never seen before. She had a broad smile and a mess of blonde hair that framed her wide, cheerful, face. Her dazzling green-blue eyes were fixed on Emera as she extended a hand out to her.

"Names Kay. This is one hell of a fight, huh?"

Emera shook the girl's hand, "Emera. Any idea how t' get out of' this mess?"

"Here." Kay handed her a sword hilt first, "For starters, I think you'll be needing this."

"What about you?" Emera asked as she accepted the weapon, it's weight and the cool metal where comforting.

"Not to worry." The girl patted her hip where another cutlass hung from her sword belt, "I swiped that one off of a poor gent who no longer had use of it."

"Ugh... thanks." Emera eyed the dead man's sword, weary for a moment, but with the understanding that it was better than no sword at all.

"Don't mention it." Kay replied.

A poor sap fell to the ground near the table, causing the two girls to jump. They watched in horror as his opponent took hold of his ankles and dragged him back into the fray. His screams for mercy evidently fell on deaf ears. If there was ever going to be a sign telling the girls to leave, that was it.

"Help me flip the table!" Emera shouted over the roar of the tavern.

Kay complied without a word. Together the young ladies toppled the table onto its edge, creating a makeshift shield. The two crouched behind it and glanced nervously at the room just beyond it. Glass shards covered the floor in a sea of razor edges and broken tables and chairs lay either in useless heaps or in the hands of brawling Pirates. Someone fell from the upper level, landing hard atop a potted plant which crumbled under their weight. They didn't get back up again. That was when Emera spotted Jack making a hasty retreat out the front door.

Without thinking she leapt to her feet, "Jack!"

He only shrugged at her, a look of mild apology on his face, before ducking out into the street. A pistol sounded from close by and a shot went whizzing past Emera's shoulder. Kay seized her wrist and pulled her back down behind the table. From the bar, the pistol's owner shouted something at them in French.

Kay made a rude gesture with her hand over the table and shouted, "Place la vôtre, vous gras Français baise!"

"Yer French?" Emera asked as another shot ripped into the wall behind them.

"Ma grand-mère morte a but mieux que cela!" She hollered at the Frenchman before replying, in English, "My mother is. My range is pretty much limited to insults."

"Ah, I thought I'd heard some of that before." Emera nodded, gripping her sword tight.

The Frenchman bellowed something at them.

"What did he say?" Emera asked over the sound of another pistol being fired.

"You don't want to know." Kay explained.

Emera ducked out from behind the table just long enough to bite her thumb at their adversary. A throwing knife bore its way into the table and Emera whipped back around to the safe side of their makeshift shield. Although she knew her life was at risk, she was strangely enjoying herself. She had never been in a tavern fight before.

"I'm starting to get sick of this one. Any ideas?" Kay jerked her thumb over her shoulder, in the general direction of the Frenchman.

Emera looked around quickly in an attempt to take stalk of their assets. There weren't many. However, when she saw a rum bottle her eyes lit up. She stanched it by its neck with her left hand and tightened her grip on the sword in her right.

"One." She replied, "On my mark, head for that pillar."

Kay nodded and got ready to run.

Emera took a breath to steady herself, then said, "One... Two...THREE!"

On her word, the young sailor lobbed the rum bottle in the direction of the bar. The two wasted no time in seeing if it hit it's mark. Instead they leapt from their shelter, making a mad dash towards the pillar that Emera had indicated. There was the sharp sound of glass shattering and the Frenchman screamed something neither of them understood. They slammed their backs against the wide oak pillar.

"Brilliant." Kay laughed.

"Thanks. We've got t' get out of here." Emera replied.

"How?"

Emera glanced around the pillar, taking in the madness for a moment, "Your turn. That was my one good idea."

"Right." Kay said cheerily, "Suppose it's time to handle things the old fashion way."

She drew her sword and gave Emera a broad smile.

"Watch my back?" Kay glanced out from behind their hiding place.

"Aye. Just lead the way." Emera clapped a hand on the girl's shoulder.

With a smile, Kay dove into the throng of dueling Pirates, with Emera following right on her heels. The madness of the tavern enveloped them in a crashing wave. Before she could blink, Emera was standing right in the heart of the fight. Someone took a swing at her and her body reacted automatically. Her arm flew up, raising her sword in a parry. Steel glanced off steel with a sharp clatter as the weapons kissed. Her opponent's sword was knocked to the side and Emera shoved past him, following Kay who was still moving forward through the onslaught. The girls pushed through, ducking and dodging as they went. Pirates surrounded them, blocking their path in every direction.

"Bugger!" Emera swore through her teeth.

"We're trapped!" Kay noted.

They moved to stand back to back, defending one another from the violence all around them. Surprisingly, the two young women fought well together. Each responded to the other's moves as though they had rehearsed the steps. However, as skilled as they were, they were no match for the fury around them. The parameter they held began to close in on the two. Emera looked around desperately for something, anything, to get them out. Looking at the bar she saw the bedraggled Frenchman pulling himself to his feet, murder in his eyes.

"This is looking grim!" Kay shouted as she kicked a man away from her, "I dunno how much longer I can keep this up!"

"Just hold on!" Emera replied, her eyes frantically darting around.

She was certain they were done for. There were simply too many warring people between them and the way out. Emera wished that she had never agreed to a drink. If not for Jack, she wouldn't be fighting for her life in a tavern. Suddenly, she saw their salvation. And the swarm of violence swallowed them whole.