A/N: I'm so sorry this took me forever to get up. My old muse died and it took me a while to find a new one. The new one's name is Bonnie, aka LadyAura on this site. You should check out her page, she rocks. Seriously, this chapter would not exist without her help, so give her some love.

And without further ado, chapter 4!

Tazz couldn't believe she was actually glad to see Tortuga again. Maybe it was due to a warped sense of nostalgia, or maybe it was just the prospects of getting off the ship for more than two days, but she made sure she was first in line for the gangplank onto the docks.

Oh, sweet solid land! Dirt had never looked so appealing. Sure, she could do without the sickly-sweet odor that seemed to permeate the very island itself, but it could be overlooked. She was ashore!

"Not to interrupt yer jig or anything, but maybe you could move it about three feet to yer left?"

The Irish brogue made Tazz turn. Standing behind her with a heavy-looking chest on his shoulder was Caleb. Smiling sheepishly, Tazz moved out of the middle of the path and fell into step with him. "What's in the chest?" she asked.

"Dead cats," Caleb replied immediately. At Tazz's look of complete and utter horror, he edited himself. "I was just kiddin', Devil! Honest. It's just some silver plates an' such fer me t' sell." Tazz still stared at him wide-eyed. "Oh good grief... Want me t' show ye?"

"Don't do that," Tazz snapped, her gaze shifting to a glare. "If you don't recall, I'm a cat owner."

Caleb grinned. "Aw, now I'd never hurt Spooky an' you know it. He's too good a mouser. Our grain stores've never been safer. Besides," he added, "I'm too sweet-hearted to actually kill anythin' small and relatively cute."

"A sweet-hearted pirate, huh?" Tazz echoed. "Don't let that get around. People will talk."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the scourge of the seas likes bunny rabbits. What next?"

Tazz chuckled to herself. "You want some help with that thing? Looks heavy." She gestured to the chest over Caleb's shoulder.

The Irishman smirked and glanced at her sidelong. "Oh, it is. But what kind of man would I be if I let you strain yer pretty li'l self on my account?"

"Your masculinity astounds me," Tazz said flatly. "Please, allow me to be in awe." She stopped walking, causing Caleb to pause and look over his shoulder. Tazz stood where she had stopped, simply staring at him with her mouth open in mock amazement.

Caleb let out a quick laugh and shook his head, continuing towards the shops. "Fox in a chicken coop," he said once more. "Well, these things aren't gonna sell themselves. I'll catch ye this evening, a'right?"

Tazz nodded and waved vaguely as she watched Caleb head further down the crowded street. She stood for a moment, watching all the drunken hustle and bustle of the city, all while wondering where she could occupy herself. All at once, the grating sound of Gabrielle's high-pitched whine found her ears. The words were indistinct, but the griping tone probably meant she wanted to see the pirate town up close.

There were a few more mumbles of conversation, then Jonesy's loud cry of, "But why do I have to watch her?!" carried down into the street. "I'm no good at babysittin'," he continued. "Couldn't ye find someone a little more suited to this kind of thing?"

Tazz jolted, her eyes widening, before taking off down the street. "Caleb, wait for me!"

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After hawking off his wares, Caleb decided he needed someone to help him spend his hard-earned money. Tazz was, apparently, a good candidate for this mission, because she was immediately drafted and dragged along into the market.

She watched as seedy-looking merchants traded items with seedier-looking customers. Still slightly on edge, Tazz kept close to Caleb, even though he seemed oblivious to the questionable nature of the townsfolk. Even though the roads were dirt and the strip mall hadn't been invented yet, she couldn't help but be reminded of mallratting at home. Some semblance of air conditioning would have been nice, but that, too, was about two hundred years from conception.

Tazz was jarred out of her reverie after running into Caleb's back when he stopped suddenly. Grumbling and rubbing her forehead, she leaned around his shoulder and frowned at him. "A warning would have been nice, you know..."

Ignoring her, or perhaps just not hearing her, Caleb spun around. In his hands was a frilly monstrosity of a dress, which he then held up to Tazz, as if imagining it on her.

"You must be kidding."

Caleb grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Aww, why not?" he pouted. "It would be ever-so-sophisticated on ye."

Tazz smacked him in the stomach, knocking the dress aside in the process. "It's not even a nice color," she muttered. "And the ruffles are just obnoxious."

Putting the dress down, Caleb's face lit up, and Tazz immediately knew she'd said the wrong thing. Before she could open her mouth, Caleb leapt on it like Spooky on a catnip mouse.

"So if I found the right dress, ye'd wear it?" he asked gleefully. Without letting Tazz reply, he grabbed her hand and raced off down the street, pulling her behind.

They skidded to a stop in front of a dressmaker's shop. Not a tent, not a cart, but an actual tradesman's shop, bell on the door and all. Caleb gave another wild grin and flung open the door, stepping inside.

He came to a sudden halt as his arm jerked backwards. Looking back, he saw Tazz clinging to the doorway with her free hand, her feet braced against the frame. She reminded him of a cat clinging to the sides of a tub so as to not get wet. Caleb gave her a patronizing look and tugged the hand he was holding, but Tazz didn't budge. Frowning after another tug failed to dislodge her, the Irishman slowly smirked and reached out, lightly tickling her free arm. An instant later, Tazz instinctively curled up to keep Caleb's hand away, but was then yanked through the doorway and into the little shop of horrors.

A seamstress looked up from arranging a cream-colored gown. Smiling a little, she brushed her long brown hair out of her face and walked over to where the pirates stood. Tazz noticed little sewing knickknacks protruding from all over her. There were pencils and chalk in her hair, pins stuck in her skirt, and even a coil of measuring tape at her waist.

"Hello," the seamstress greeted, almost too cheerfully. Tazz was once again reminded of shopping in the mall. Turns out the Victoria's Secret saleswomen were the same no matter what era you were in.

Caleb smiled back and said, "We're lookin' fer a dress."

The seamstress smiled politely, but blinked once or twice before replying, "Well, we've got those. How about we get a little more specific, aye?" She raised a brow. "Is it for you or for her?"

Clearing his throat, Caleb smiled awkwardly. "Uh, not me today. One for her." He tilted his head towards Tazz.

Tazz hadn't really heard much of the conversation. She was too acutely aware of Caleb's hand still clasping her own.

The seamstress Bonnie, who was approaching forty, had been around the block more than once. She took in the excited look on Caleb's face, the bewildered look on Tazz's, and their clasped hands. She tapped a marking pencil against her cheek, contemplating the situation, then reached for the measuring tape around her waist.

"So is this for a formal occasion, or just for everyday?" she asked, unraveling the tape.

Caleb donned a confused expression. "There's more than one kind of dress?"

The seamstress looked at him like he was something she might scrape off her shoe. After a moment's pause, "Shoo."

Caleb blinked. "What?"

"Shoo," Bonnie said again, flapping her hands at him. Tazz couldn't help but snicker at the look on Caleb's face, and suddenly felt more at ease about the whole ordeal.

Letting go of Tazz's hand and shuffling off to the back of the shop, Caleb began rummaging through dresses. Meanwhile, Tazz and the seamstress fell into conversation. He didn't know a blasted thing about dresses, but he figured he could probably find one that would look good on Tazz. After a few minutes of searching, he came across a vibrant red dress trimmed in black lace. He pictured the lace against Tazz's fair skin and pulled the dress off the rack, displaying it to the two women. "How 'bout this?" he asked with a flourish.

The women merely stared at him. Grin fading from his features, he dejectedly put the dress back. "Well I thought it was a nice dress," he grumbled to himself.

"Oh, it is a nice dress. I have one just like it."

The voice near his ear made Caleb jump in surprise. Spinning around, he came face to face with a young redheaded woman, presumably another seamstress judging from the pincushion on her wrist. She smiled coyly up at him with scarlet-painted lips and black-lined eyes.

Caleb gave a lopsided smirk. "Well maybe you can help me, then."

"How can I be of service?" she asked, planting a hand on her hip flirtatiously.

Oblivious to her intentions, Caleb fell into a rambling explanation of what he was looking for. The girl nodded along, looking slightly bewildered. After a few moments, she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

Glancing back over her shoulder, the girl took in the image of Tazz speaking with the older woman.

"So is she your wife?" she asked.

Caleb stopped, blinked, then burst out laughing.

Tazz stopped mid-sentence to determine the cause of Caleb's sudden mirth. Her eyes narrowed upon discovering said cause, namely the tramp in the skimpy red dress. She was practically plastered to his side, and appeared to be trying to engulf his arm with her cleavage. Apparently, bimbos were universal as well.

A growl rumbled low in her throat and she started forward, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Suzette," the older seamstress called in a warning tone. The redheaded strumpet immediately dropped Caleb's arm, pulling back guiltily.

"Yes, Madame?"

"Shouldn't you be finishing the embroidery on Mdme. Giselle's new dress?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Suzette, her eyes downcast, gave a small, "Yes, Madame," then bobbed a curtsy and scurried off to the back room.

Turning back to Tazz, Bonnie smiled once more and nodded in satisfaction. "I believe I have just the dress for you. Wait here." With that, she whisked herself away to the back room.

Suddenly left alone in the shop, Tazz and Caleb found themselves staring at one another. After a moment of awkward silence, Tazz muttered, "She wasn't even that pretty."

Caleb's eyebrow quirked upwards and the smirk returned to his face. "Why do ye say that?"

"She just was," Tazz said defensively, rolling her eyes. "She was short, she wore too much make-up, her hair was ratty, she looked like a ho-bag and she probably just wanted your money..." She trailed off and shifted uncomfortably, then finished off by grumbling, "You should just know better than to trust a girl like that."

The grin didn't leave Caleb's face. "What? A girl like everything that you're not?"

Tazz had no comeback.

"At least she had nice bosoms," Caleb tossed out idly.

A flat glare surfaced on Tazz's face. "Are you saying I don't?" she asked.

It was Caleb's turn to have no comeback.

Tazz gave the ghost of a smirk. The upper hand was now hers! Grabbing the neckline of her shirt, she pulled it down to flash her own cleavage. "At least mine are C-cup," she stated.

Caleb's green eyes nearly shot out of his head, and his jaw fell open. He felt as if he should look away, but somehow, he just couldn't.

Of course, right then the door to the dress shop flew open.

Jonesy came rushing in like his ass was aflame. "Tazz!" he cried. "Tazz, you gotta help me! I've been lookin' for ye everywhere an'... an'..." He stopped, his train of thought derailed at the sight that greeted him.

Quickly pulling her shirt back up, Tazz glared daggers at Jonesy. "Jonesy, what's so important?" she growled through clenched teeth.

Blinking back into reality, Jonesy suddenly remembered what he had chased Tazz down for. "Oh! Tazz, Jack's gonna kill me!"

"Why this time?" she asked, exasperated.

"Tazz!" Jonesy shouted, trying to express the gravity of the situation. "I lost the girl!"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"You... what?"

"I lost Gabrielle!"

In a flurry of movement, Tazz had Jonesy by the collar and was centimeters away from biting off his nose. "How did you lose a girl?!" she screamed into his face.

"I dunno!" Jonesy howled. "She was whinin' and beggin' to go to the market, so I took her. I turned around for one second an' she was gone!"

With a roar of frustration, Tazz let go of Jonesy's collar and shoved him towards the door. "We're looking for her now," she seethed, tossing him into the street. Looking back over her shoulder, she gave an apologetic look to Caleb.

The Irishman only shooed her off with a wave of his hand. "Go on, find the brat."

Nodding, Tazz ducked out into the street and went tearing after Jonesy.