author's note: I'm on a writing spree with this one. I've actually got the whole thing written in my head, its just a matter of getting it down in type. Hope you enjoy! oh yeah, Jack and co. belong to the mouse.

It only took a couple of days before Tara was able to venture out of bed again, although her face and shoulders were an awful mix of purple, red, and yellow, her lower lip was still swollen and split, and both eyes were ringed in blackish-purple. Jack was amazed that the girl was still alive, let alone poking around the ship. She'd gone looking for something to make herself useful, despite protests from Jack that she ought to be taking it easy. She won out in the end, and she was currently occupied peeling potatoes in the galley, the least strenuous task he could think to set her to.

The men had all taken a shine to her, all except his first mate, Hector, who he quite frankly didn't think liked anyone. The story of how she'd come to be aboard had passed through the crew quickly, and they'd made her their mascot, the token female on a ship full of ragged sailors. He'd never seen them bend over backwards to serve anyone, not even him, and he was the captain!

He'd handed over the helm, and decided that he'd go to check on her. He wandered toward the galley, where he heard a high, musical laugh. It made him smile; he'd never heard her laugh that freely before. He walked in and saw Tara and Cook pelting each other with potato peels. Jack put on his best captain face and coughed loudly. "Ahem, what is the meaning of this?"

They both froze, peels still in hand. Tara looked quite contrite, and stammered, "We were, uh, just… um…"

Jack's face cracked, and he chuckled. Tara and Cook both began to breathe normally again, Tara letting out a little giggle. Jack leaned over and picked a potato peel out of her hair and waved it in her face as he grinned at her. "I'm holding you personally responsible if this ends up in my dinner."

Tara laughed again. "Yes, sir. I'll see to it that it doesn't."

Jack walked away smiling. He was going to enjoy having Tara Riley aboard.

The weeks passed, and all of Tara's marks had healed. She'd graduated from peeling potatoes to climbing the rigging, a skill that had taken her quite a bit of practice. However, once she got it, she really got it, and she was soon tumbling through the ropes as easily as any of the other crewmen. She'd taken to wearing a set of Jack's old clothes, sleeves and trouser legs rolled up and pants belted with a length of cord. Her long blonde hair often got in the way, but she kept it under control by braiding it and tucking it under a bandana.

Watching her up there was driving Jack to distraction. For some reason he had this vivid picture in his mind of her losing her footing and plummeting to the deck. He was standing in the bow, pretending to be taking their heading but really watching Tara on the yardarm when she tripped. He watched in horror as she tumbled down the sails. He ran closer, somehow thinking he might catch her. At the last moment, she grabbed a rope and swing off, dropping to her feet right in front of him, grinning and laughing. "Got you, didn't I?"

Jack stared at her, eyes bugging. He wasn't happy. He grabbed her by the shoulder and started dragging her away. "You and I are going to have a talk in my cabin, luv." he said roughly.

Once they were behind the cabin's closed door, Jack went off. "What the bloody hell do you think you were doing? You could've been killed!"

"It was just a joke… I knew what I was doing!"

"Scaring me to death, that's what you were doing!" Jack was about to continue when he saw Tara. She was slinking back into the farthest corner of the room, tears standing in her eyes. She was looking at him the way she'd looked at her father; she was expecting him to hit her. Seeing her look at him like that broke his heart. All the anger left his face as he went over to her. She'd curled into a ball, and when he raised a hand to her face, she flinched away. "Tara, look at me." Bit by bit she looked up, slow tears falling from her cornflower-blue eyes. "I am not your father, Tara. I will never, ever hurt you." She continued to look up at him, as vulnerable as he'd ever seen her. He couldn't help himself. He leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers. She tentatively reached out her hands to rest them on his arms, and he gathered her closer, taking that as an invitation to kiss her again.

Oo, a kiss! Please R&R, it keeps me on track.