'P' for Pirate

The stench of burning corpses and wood surrounded Gwen. Her eyes were narrowed at where her ship used to be, her home, for the past few months. Her body was trembling as an EITC agent held both of her hands in one with a blade pressed against her neck.

A man with a bicorne hat stood in front of the six pirates that survived their own raid. His icy blue eyes held a smug look as they landed on each and every one of them. Gwen tried to not pay attention to him. All she could think about was how she watched her Captain fall on top of the deck with a cutlass sticking out of his back. He was ran through easily, with little fight, almost like his goal that day was to die.

She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach as they sailed toward the ship. All of them were desperate for new swag, but she knew it boded ill.

She remembered what her father had said about desperate people, pirates and sailors especially, out on sea. Once a pirate would become desperate, they would do something stupid.

Teague was right, as usual. They were all stupid; the moment they sailed out of the Caribbean, they became stupid.

The breeze around the ship brushed the white tail attached to the man's wig. Everyone was silent, waiting for him to speak. It was funny though, by the size of him, Gwen wouldn't think that he would be the leader of this ship. He was around her height.

The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Your Captain is dead," he announced. She cast her eyes downward, not daring to look up at the small man in the bicorne. "I am Director Cutler Beckett, and you," he paused, beginning to walk down the line, his heels clicking against the wood. He continued, "are pirates who have chosen the wrong ship, it seems."

It was disturbing how calm his tone was. His heels stopped moving, causing Gwen to look up briefly. She could not see who he was standing in front of; not but a glimpse of a large man who was hunched over. She was surprised that no one was holding him back. But she glanced down to see a pool of blood forming underneath him. Her face contorted, disgusted. "I have word that you are second-in-command?" Beckett asked the man.

Gwen tried not to widen her eyes. She watched as Beckett looked down at her quartermaster, a small smile making an appearance on his face. He was called Hobbs. He was a large man that Captain Reynolds picked up in Haiti. The man was tough as nails, they said—but she knew. Whenever they raided a different ship, the ferociousness showed as his mouth snarled back to reveal his pointed teeth, some with gold caps, others with silver. Although, scary as he was to be around, he had the respect of everyone on the ship and played the fiddle badly on their drunken nights.

She didn't think he survived this either. She saw a bullet head his way, a stray one. She saw him go down, but she didn't see where it hit.

Hobbs didn't answer him. Gwen could hear his moans of pain though. "Nothing to say, pirate?"

She swallowed, waiting to hear something along with everyone else. But... all that came out of Hobbs was shaky breath. Gwen decided to look away from the sight, uncertain of what was going to happen. She made her back rigid, held her chin up high, and ignored Beckett's curt order to get rid of their quartermaster.

The tears at the corner of her eyes stung as she heard Hobbs curse. But the curse soon turned into a gargle as a blade sliced open his throat. She tried to not grimace as she heard a heavy thud hit the wood.

"Now," Beckett started, stepping over the body without taking a look down at it. Gwen closed her eyes tightly, swallowing and sucking at her lips. "Take that as an example of what happens when you do not comply."

"We don' havta listen to ya!" Someone shouted from the line, next to Gwen. She breathed in sharply, cursing, knowing full-well who that voice belonged to. It was someone new who had too much pride in his bones the moment they picked him up. Baker. His cracked lips always spoke too much, and his mouth was always used more than his scrawny legs. Beckett's head cocked to the side, in a curious, yet disgruntled way.

The man holding Baker pulled his arms back even further as Beckett stepped in front of him. "Is that so?" he asked. Gwen could have sworn that Beckett was like a predator, his hot breath inching closer to her, step by step. She didn't even know him, but she could tell that the man was slimier than any that she would come across. "Pray tell, who do you have that you do listen to?"

"Whoeva my Cap'n may be."

If Gwen could roll her eyes, she could.

Beckett was motionless. "Well, your Captain is dead, the man I believed to be second command is dead. So, as far as I know, there is no one else. There is only five of you savages against more than twenty honorable men who have an honest living. You are outnumbered, and therefore useless."

"You call us the savages?" Gwen spoke out, gritting her teeth. She swallowed as Beckett suddenly looked at her, immediately regretting opening her mouth. Before she spoke out, the man's hold on the knife loosened, once he felt that she wasn't a threat toward his leader.

But as the words left her mouth, he still didn't make a move to restrain her as before. She wasn't struggling though.

Gwen acted as though she accepted her fate—and she had. She imagined her death happen in so many different times, it started to feel like a memory.

She continued, trying not to stammer, "You were just lettin' a man bleed out from a bullet, right on your deck. You didn't give him a chance to speak before you had one of your men murder him in cold blood, mate."

"Murder in cold blood?" Beckett questioned. "And you haven't done the same... miss?" He sounded surprised when he looked at her more closely. Gwen attempted to not pay mind to him as he examined her.

She didn't answer him, instead she kept her breath even.

Beckett had a smug expression on his face. "Oh no, it seems like you have a lot to say. Don't be shy now."

"We kill to survive...mate," she said, looking away from him. Beckett only hummed at what she said, which she knew wasn't very good.

Then Beckett chuckled. "And so do we," he added. "I believe your point is mute, miss—."

"Gwen."

"I do not believe I asked your name."

Beckett took another step toward her. His face still smug as their eyes matched level. It was so close, close enough for her to spit at him and make a mark if she wanted to. But as he made the distance between them small, she was pulled back by the man behind her and the knife was pressed against her throat. She couldn't help the squeal of surprise to escape. Her body resumed trembling, her bottom lip moving on its own. Beckett's smirk turned into a grin.

For a brief moment Gwen thought it was her turn to die, but the director surprised her.

"Now, what is that name again?"

She stuttered, "G-Gwen."

"G-G," Beckett mocked, chuckling. "Come on now, woman. Speak."

'Woman,' she repeated in her head. Her teeth gritted as she narrowed her eyes at the small man, enjoying himself way too much as he laughed with most of his men on the ship. Gwen was bothered by it, their laughter ringing across the bodies they killed—her friends—and the blood that belonged to them.

"Gwendolyn Sparrow," she hissed at him. But once her name left her lips, she saw the smug on Beckett's face fade. His eyes widening only just a bit as he looked at her from head to toe. She felt her face contort as she watched him step away from her, his hot and smelly breath leaving her face. She didn't know what that look meant; she didn't want to know.

But before her mind could go into a thousand different reasons as to why Beckett's face drained, he composed himself. A man dressed completely in black step toward him with his eyes on Gwen. He used a hand to cover his mouth as he whispered in his ear. The man's face was weathered and severe as the wrinkles on it drooped. His dark eyes watched Gwen as if he was waiting for her to pull herself out of the agent's hold.

He did not tear them away from her as he took a step away from Beckett.

That bad feeling made another appearance. How Beckett looked at her, how the man in black looked at her, she knew that whatever would happen next would bring her the worse kind of luck. Although, she didn't know why. All she had done was say her name.

Her eyes widened as she woke up. The sweat on her back made her light shirt stick to her flesh as she breathed heavily, one of her hands falling on top of chest. She looked up at the only window in her cell, the porthole, to see what was the time of day. It was still dark.

She had been on The Dauntless for a full day. Her time on the ship did not really do much. All she really did was think and think. Her thoughts ranged from plans to escape, to her brother, and then to the Commodore and his request.

She bit her bottom lip, wrapping her arms around her legs in order to bring them closer. Her thumb was under her left sleeve, caressing her brand in memory. Director Cutler Beckett's icy blue eyes made an appearance far too often; his eyes were burned into her head, haunting her.

It was the very first time her brother's name had gotten her into trouble. Sparrow was just a name before then, a name her Grandmama used, her brother used, and one of her uncles. Her father did not use the name to separate himself from his mother, and she wanted to do the same. But, he never allowed that.

"Are you alright?" someone asked. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, her stomach grumbling from the lack of food. "You... you look spooked, Miss Sparrow."

She turned her head slowly, glancing at Groves who was now standing up in front of the bars. He was not at attention, but one foot was forward as if he was reluctant to speak to her. She gave him a fake smile to acknowledge what seemed to be fake concern. "I'm peachy, officer."

"You do not seem like you are."

"And why would you care?" she asked annoyed. "Yesterday I was just a prisoner."

"You're still human," Groves said. Gwen frowned, looking away as her brow furrowed. "I-I don't know," he went on, shaking his head. Abruptly, Gwen picked hers up confused, seeing Groves backing away from her cell and toward his seat once more. "This may be out of place. I shouldn't have ask—."

Gwen interrupted him with a small smile, "It was just a bad dream, mate. But don't fret, I've grown used to them."

He gave a curt nod before taking his seat once more. He closed his mouth and looked away, as if he did not want to say anything to her then. Gwen took a deep breath before shifting herself to face him. "Y'know, officer, I'd love to make a request."

He reluctantly turned to face her, unsure if he wanted to even hear what it was. Her eyebrows perked though once they locked eyes. He remained silent though. She smirked. "Come on now. You were ready to talk to me before. Don't be shy, all you have to do is say yay or nay."

"I'm afraid I can't take requests from prisoners."

"But I'm not just a prisoner, Officer Groves," Gwen started, wrapping her hands around the bars before putting her face in between them. "I'm also human, and besides you didn't even hear it yet."

Groves closed his eyes tightly. "What is your request?"

"I just want my hat back." Gwen quickly said, moving her face away from the bars. He asked the question as if it was painful to ask it. She didn't understand why. He opened his eyes and raised a brow at her. She shrugged her shoulders. "It'll help me...it blocked out a few things in me life. I just need help to sleep, and this morning, the sun was botherin' me 'nough to wake me so—."

"I will see what I can do, Miss Sparrow," Groves said, cutting her off. She didn't hide the surprise on her face as he stood up. But soon her smirk turned back into a smile. Gwen had a good feeling her and Officer Groves would be good friends by the time they made it to the Caribbean.

"Would you care for a cup of tea, Miss Sparrow?" The sound of his voice made Gwen pick up her head as her body shook. Though her wrists were chained, she attempted to grip both of her arms across her chest. The light from the sun was shining through the window behind Beckett, making her squint her eyes. Her hair was matted together with more than just knots, and her skin shined with dirt. Her clothes were practically rags and stained with blood. She could barely look at the director in the eye as he sipped his tea. "It might make you feel better." There was a ghastly smile on his face.

She didn't answer him. Instead a shiver ran through her body, but she did not dare look up at him or turn her face away.

It made him chuckle. "Oh, come now, Miss Sparrow. You do not have to be silent with me any longer. We're friends."

She scoffed, not saying a word. He was a friend who killed other friends, it seemed. For three months Gwen stayed in that god-awful cell, not finding a way to escape, not looking for a way out. One by one the other four members of The Scornful Maiden were carried out of their cell while she was placed in her own. She wasn't sure what they had planned for her, what they wanted to do to her. But one thing she knew, she knew whatever to come was not good.

The way Beckett had looked at her before she was taken below was ingrained in her mind. The man in black fiddling with the knife at his side whenever he came down to check on her made her feel strained. He never once used it against her, but by the look in his eyes she could tell that he wanted to use it.

By the time he came for her, she was at the point of wanting to die. The next time she wanted to see the sunlight, she wanted to be taken away to be hanged. She wanted it all to be done and over with.

But that was not what they intended for her, apparently. Instead, she was brought to his personal office and was now being called 'friend'.

He took another sip of his tea. "You have nothing to fear. You can speak freely."

"Aye?" Gwen asked, her voice hoarse. Her throat was strained from not being in use and the lack of water. She gritted her teeth as she rolled her shoulder back, cringing as it cracked. "Why am I here, Director Beckett? For...forgive me, I'm not accustomed to this sort of special treatment. Savvy?" She could have sworn she saw his whole body shiver. At first, he didn't answer. He brought his cup of tea down on his desk and opened up a small book. "It's not very fair to keep your friends in the dark... my good chap."

"Hmm." Beckett glanced down at his book again, before shutting it. "Well, Miss Sparrow... the only reason why we happen to be friends is because we have friend in common." Gwen's face fell immediately. Her upper lip curled up as her brows knitted together confused. A friend in common? Why... Before she could ask, he went on, "Have you ever come across a Jack Sparrow in your travels?"

"J-Jack Sparrow?" Gwen questioned. That was her brother... why would her brother be involved with Beckett? Jack disappeared from Shipwreck Cove years ago. Gwen, or really anyone, had no clue of where he actually went—he could be dead for all she knew. She was hoping she would come across him in Tortuga at least, perhaps, but she didn't.

Beckett seemed to be eager to hear more about her relation with Jack, but she thought it best to not let him know. She shrugged her shoulders. "Beg pardon, mate. I'm 'fraid I never heard of the bloke. All that we have in common, as it seems, is our name."

"Is that so?"

"Aye, it is."

Beckett shook his head in disbelief, but didn't attempt to make a remark against her. "What a strange coincidence then. Here I thought you to be a relative, or even a wife, of one of my Captains." Captain? She thought. Her face slowly turned away from him now, her frown deepening. Her mouth parted as she stared at a random spot at the doors in front of her. He would never work for the East India Trading Company... she knew her brother. "Oh well, sadly I was mistaken. Merc—."

"Wait," Gwen said, abruptly turning her head. She felt her neck go stiff, but she decided to ignore the pain. "He's my brother... Jack is my brother."

At the sound of that, Beckett seemed like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. His eyes never left Gwen as he ordered, "Mercer, please bring Sparrow. It seems it's time for a family reunion." The man in black moved from the corner with his face stoic. Gwen tried not to widen her eyes, but failed. Her brother was there? When Mercer left the room, Beckett shook his head. "Captain Jack Sparrow... one of my best."

Gwen did not respond to him. She didn't think her brother was dead, just off elsewhere. But she did not think she would find him working with... them.

Beckett had gotten up from his desk before walking over to the fire burning on the other side. The weather around them was hot and dry enough. Gwen did not understand why the director even thought about putting a fire on until the man touched the handle of a long piece of iron. She bit down hard on her lip and tore her eyes away from him immediately. "Shame, he has made me angry as of late. Your brother has an unfortunate streak of being independent. He seemed to have forgotten that he has an employer."

Swallowing, she said, "And you're not a good man to anger."

"You are right. I'm not."

"But... I don't understand still why you kept me here," Gwen admitted. Though she did not want to look at him, she still wanted a glimpse of his eyes as he would answer her. Yes, her brother was an employee of his company. Yes, her good brother seemed to have been, indeed, a bother for the director. But what did that have to do with her?

"I've not a word with my brother for five years, maybe more, maybe less. He isn't a pirate, never has been, never will be one. Jack is honorable, too honorable for this life and his own good. I'm sure he has spoken to you 'bout it." She didn't know what this man had planned, but she couldn't admit her brother was a pirate, not ever. She could tell how he was when he captured her, her crew. He had an usual hatred of them. Normally everybody who was honorable would, but there was something more heartless—cold—about his.

She was haunted by the loud thud of Hobbs' body still.

"Sparrow and I had a deal. That is all you need to know, Miss Sparrow."

She looked over at him, seeing him pick up the long piece of iron from the fire. His eyes glazed over the shape at the end of it, and Gwen felt her throat constrict as her eyes glanced at it as well. She blinked a few times, her wrist aching at the very thought, before turning away again. "And... and what're you planning on doing with that?"

Beckett chuckled softly, putting the piece of iron back in the fire. "Nothing, if your brother complies."

Her heart dropped at the same time she heard the door click open.

Gwen's head picked up once she heard boots coming down the stairs. She got up, walking over to the bars, expecting to see Groves coming down with her tricorne hat in hand. However, it was the Commodore, holding her hat in front of him with an annoyed glare thrown her way. Another pair of boots was behind him, and unfortunately they did not involve her friend, Groves. She narrowed her eyes at Norrington confused as the pudgy Navy Officer took Groves's previous chair.

"Oi, where's my friend?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Norrington did not answer her right away. Instead, he turned the hat vertically to fit it in between the bars. Gwen glanced down at it before taking it out of his hands reluctantly. He pursed his lips as she examined her hat, eyeing the small pocket she had sewn in a while back. "Your friend is no longer going to be in charge of you. So sorry."

She swallowed before putting her hat on, pushing the brim down to be sure it was on securely. She gave him a fake smile before nodding her head. "Thanks."

Norrington's eyebrows only perked up as her smile fell. She turned away from the Commodore to take her place underneath the small window in her cell. James was about to leave the girl and his officer, but his eyes soon fell on the plate of food sitting on the ground, growing stale. He frowned. "Are you choosing not to eat, Miss Sparrow?"

"I ain't hungry, Commodore," she said, only regarding him with a raised brow. She crossed her arms over her chest as her stomach tried to protest.

James blinked a few times at her. "You must be. You should eat."

"As handsome as you are, my Commodore," Gwen started, turning to face him with a small smirk on her face. James glanced away from her, his body going stiff as she looked him over from head to toe. She went on with an airy chuckle, "I don't really wanna, and you can't really make me either."

Before he could even respond to her, Gwen faced forward, pushing the brim of her hat further down to cover her eyes. He sighed heavily before turning to face his officer, who barely seemed to be alert. He rolled his eyes. "Do not move from your place, Officer Murtogg."

"Right, sir." James tried to ignore the anxious tone in his voice. However, Gwen smirked at hearing it.

"Goodnight." He said, turning on his heel to leave.

As he went up the stairs, Gwen waved. "Fare thee well, my Commodore!" She closed her eyes to the sound of James pausing halfway up the stairs, to either roll his eyes annoyed or to sigh annoyed, before resuming.

She bit her bottom lip, feeling her head loll forward as if she was already asleep. However, she wasn't. She could not get out of her head; her thoughts would not stop. She wanted them to stop but she was afraid that the moment she would allow herself to sleep, she would be brought back into Beckett's office and see red flood her vision. She would smell the familiar scent of burning flesh once more, along with the scent of burning wood.

She didn't want to relive it. She relived it a thousand times, and she didn't want to again. She didn't need to.

Gwen pretended to fall asleep, leaning her head against the wood of the Dauntless as it rocked back and forth. But once she heard the snores come from the officer's mouth not too long after, her eyes opened. Her head lifted up as she slowly took off her hat, soundlessly opening the pocket she had within it. She glanced over at him, as she took out a small chain.

She shook her head at him. "Replaced a guard too careful with a buffoon. Thought you to be smarter, Commodore," she said to herself. Gwen placed her hat delicately on top of her lap before looking at the pendent that hung at the bottom of the chain. This was from her abuela. She gave it to Gwen right before she allowed her to leave with her father.

She still remembered her words of warning before she left. She was five at the time, and there was no way for her to know what her abuela actually meant by it until she was older.

La sangre no significa que sean su familia.

And it didn't. She learned that the hard way years ago. After Jack laid eyes on her in Beckett's office, he didn't even remark that they were brother and sister until Beckett had brought it up. He stood there and denied it, even after his face had fallen, even after their similar brown eyes locked together... he denied her.

His title and his bloody ship mattered to him more.

She remembered how she felt. She remembered how she felt when he said he never had seen her before in her life. It was different when she denied knowing him—she didn't know why Beckett was bringing him in the first place.

Unlike him. He saw her in shackles. He saw her filthy. He saw her and allowed Beckett to mock her and him for a while before he admitted to it.

That's not family.

He also allowed her to think he was dead for years. That was also something that someone who would call themselves family wouldn't do.

She gritted her teeth, remembering his gleeful grin, a whore on his lap and a tankard of rum in his hand. Years after they both got caught up with the EITC, years after she thought him to be dead, she found him in Tortuga.

He didn't even check up on her. He didn't even make sure that she was alive.

Her chest began to ache as tears welled up at the corner of her eyes. She placed the hat on top of her head roughly, dropping the necklace onto her lap as her hands rushed to wipe away the tears that fell from her eyes and caressed her cheeks.

Ever since she was a child, she did everything she could to prove herself as a Sparrow. She always had felt the need to do so, and as a lass she marked it as her duty.

Gwen couldn't recall a time where she told her brother no after requesting her for something. Even after they both received their brands from Jack trying to be honorable, she never said no to anything.

And what did she get in return?

What exactly did she get in return?

Nothing.

Not even a thank you.

Gwen bit down her lip to stop herself from releasing a quiet sob. She didn't realize how much this affected her. Yes, her brother had hurt her—several times and more times over—but she figured that was what family did once in a while. No one ever paid mind to Little Gwen. Her father was barely there, and Jack's mother, who was supposed to raise her, often placed her in the corner of their house. If Gwen had any guidance at all, it was from Grandmama Sparrow, who had given her more attention than she would have given Jack.

When she was older, Teague was more in her life. He was slowing down his life of piracy enough to spend time with both her and Jack. But, it wasn't enough. It was never enough. No matter how much she appreciated her father, Jack was there—even though Jack was a son of a bitch even then.

Jack was always there.

She moved her neck up, putting her chain around it before holding the pendent tightly in her hand. Gwen's eyes went to the front of her cell, looking at the bars up and down and shifting herself to stand up. She wiped the remaining tears from her eyes, her footsteps slow as she made her way to them. Her hands curled around the iron as her eyes focused on the wall the guard's head was leaning against.

Gulping, she whispered to herself, "I change my mind." Her hands fell from the bars as she straightened her shoulders, picking up her chin. She glanced up at the stairwell, faintly noticing the flame at the top of it with a shadow looming over. She questioned, "How long have you been standing there?"

Along with the jingling of keys, Gwen heard soft footsteps come down the steps—the light along with them. Her lips pursed as Norrington revealed himself at the bottom. "You did not really think I would leave you here with a sleeping guard, did you?" He smirked at her before hooking the lantern against the wall. Gwen closed her eyes as he turned around, not wanting to see the triumphant look on his face. "Long enough, it seems."

"I change my mind," she said quickly as he took the keys from his belt in his hands.

He tucked the key inside of the lock and held his hands behind his back. His eyebrows raised toward her curiously, as he leaned back on heels. "I beg your pardon, Miss Sparrow?"

She scoffed at her name. "I'd like to go back... to our deal."

If it was possible, his smirk could have grown at that. He pressed, "Which was?"

Her face contorted annoyed. "You know exactly what it was. I don't need ta repeat it, mate." He didn't respond to her though. He kept the same smug look on his face as if he had earned his greatest achievement. When, in reality, it was just Gwen realizing where her allegiances lied. And they did not belong with her brother, if she could even call him that.

As his silence continued, Gwen released a loud sigh. She said through her teeth,"I will give you Jack Sparrow, if you can rid me of what he gave me." Harshly, she took her left arm and pulled down her sleeve as rough as she can, bringing her wrist forward and toward his face. She bit her bottom lip, watching his eyes narrow at the brand. She glanced at her wrist before rocking on her heels anxiously.

She watched his Adam's apple bob before he looked back at her, their eyes locking. They were both silent as they gazed at one another, Gwen almost forgetting to breathe as she waited to see what her fate had in store for her.

"So," James started, licking his bottom lip as he slowly moved his hand forward. Gwen's hand from her sleeve, along with her wrist, fell. "Do we have an accord, Miss Sparrow? Your brother, Jack Sparrow, for your clemency?"

Her eyes fell onto his hand. She knew what she had to do. She knew what she wanted to do. She had two choices now: to live or to die.

Staring at his hand, reluctant but sure, she confirmed to herself, I was never meant to be a Sparrow.

Her hand then met his as she said, "He's no brother of mine."

After their hands dropped with a firm shake, Norrington took a step back as Gwen's hand reached around the bars to grab the handle of the key. Turning it to the left, her cell clicked open.

Hello all! Let me start with how sorry I am for the late update. I've had a lot of personal issues going on over the past few weeks, on top of work and my laptop breaking on me (and using a temporary one until that one gets fixed), which kind of made me put writing on the back-burner. Writing is not my top priority in life right now, it's something that I do for fun and it's also something I hope to make a career out of. And since I have a lot of reviewers in this fic in particular asking me about updates, I just ask to be patient. I love you all, your support means the world to me, and seeing new faces and old reading my fics is amazing. I promise I'm not holding back updates in my attic, it just sometimes my life gets in the way, and I also want to give you guys the best possible chapter in the best quality. Usually, when something is going on that is preventing me from updating, I'll post it on my Facebook page that you can like—I'd much rather post on there rather than posting a note in here, mostly because it's just easier. And you can always message me there too, I reply pretty quickly.

So with that, thank you all for sticking with me. I'm doing the best I can! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter as much as I did writing it! I did slip in an Easter Egg from Hamilton: A Revolution if anyone noticed it (I recently got obsessed). Thank you for reading and for the massive amounts of support!

Review replies (as I did last time with the guest reviewers, I'll number the Guest in order from older to newer):

Guest 1: Yes, and you're exactly right, too. Norrington just gave her time to think on it ;). And thank you! I kind of like their friendship that's developing too. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for your review

AnnaB: Awe thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! Sorry for the wait, I'm trying the best I can with these updates. Thank you for your review!

Guest 2: It's here! Hope you enjoyed!

Kelly-Anne: Ah thank you! See, I didn't get into Norrington until the second movie, and even then I was always a Jack-girl ;), but I'm happy that I switched gears and started this fic with him. And you never know... ;) And I pretty much try to update whenever I can, which is a really bad answer. Right now, I have a few things going on and my laptop crapping out on made me off of my game. But usually if something goes on or if an update is coming up, I'll post a status on my Facebook page to update you all, and I also post the link to the update directly on it when I do. But thank you for your review, hope you enjoyed!

Gwynn: Hey! I love her name, too! Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed the new update!

(These were posted under Chapter One after I posted Chapter Two. But I remembered you guys, no worries!)

Guest 3: Yes, I did update! But no, thank you for your review. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Guest 4: Ah that's so awesome! I'm really happy you're enjoying it so far, especially since you're not usually into fanfic. Seriously, that's great. But thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!