A/N: Awww! I just watched Blow, and now I'm all sad. Waaah. Oooh, and now I'm curious... what're YOUR favorite Johnny Depp movies/characters?? Definitely Pirates, for me... that much is obvious, lol... but I'd have to say Secret Window, too, and (of course) Sweeney Todd and Sleepy Hollow... and Blow, too, honestly, no matter how sad it makes me. Arrrg, there are so many other FABULOUS ones... I just can't choose!! Ah, well. Let me know! I'm so curious, now! XD lol.

Alright, now I know this chapter seems like mostly just filler, but it's real purpose is to build the relationship between Jack and Carlotta. I don't think it worked quite as I planned it, what with all the random strangers intervening--like the random wench and the old seamstress--but it had its reasons anyway, so I'm keeping it in. True, I could have cut this down a LOT more, but I reeeeally enjoyed the scene with the wench, and the old woman... well, that was just funny to learn a bit more about Jack's past conquests. Mwahaha. So here you are: eleven pages of unnecessary crap to keep you happy. Yaaaaay! Enjoy, my loves!!

Nassau was a very average sort of port. It smelled of ordinary human odors, and the evening air was rich with the laughter of ordinary townspeople. Carlotta had her hair tied up beneath a sailor's cap again, and she stood stiffly with a forced scowl to give herself a more masculine impression. While her fellow crewmen debarked behind her, she gazed out at the little town. It was loud and cheerful, but Carlotta viewed it with solemnity. She didn't want to leave Jack. It would be better for her in the long run, but she was not happy about it. She sighed, taking in her surroundings sadly. Several whores stood off to the sides, pointing at the crewmembers of the Black Pearl with interest, whispering and giggling behind their dirty hands. Drunken men were leading cackling women into the shadows, while some merely sat around in circles laughing raucously amongst themselves. It was like any other port, Carlotta mused. There was nothing to fear. Into the far distance, she could see that the twisting streets were less crowded. But nearest the dock, taverns and shops of all sorts were packed full of giddy people. She swallowed nervously, watching a man shove a very bored looking woman up against a nearby wall. It certainly seemed like a nice enough town.

"Here we are, Carla, darlin'," came Jack's deep voice from beside her. She flinched slightly at the sudden sound, her heart rate climbing in shock. He chuckled. "You're too easily frightened, love," he remarked with amusement. "You sure you can handle livin' on your own out here?"

She nodded firmly. "Of course," she whispered shakily. He laughed, and shoved her forward with an exuberant gesture.

Her knees buckled as he pressed his palm into the small of her back and tried to push her towards the heart of the port. His fingers were extremely close to the stinging wound at her shoulder, and she nearly lost her balance. She threw out her arms quickly, however, and was able to steady herself before she fell. Jack did not apologize. "Let's go, lass," he ordered, snatching her elbow in his grip and tugging her importantly away from the docks. She followed him awkwardly, shuffling along at his side while he maneuvered her through the crowds and finally steered her into a brightly lit tavern. The jaunty tune of the fiddle players in the corner had hoards of people dancing, and they were all laughing and shouting to one another happily.

"Why have we come in here, Captain?" she asked him timidly, glancing around at all the drunken men in apprehension.

He laughed. "Why not?" Keeping his hold on her arm, he tugged her towards the musty old bar. Obnoxiously loud men were guffawing in Carlotta's sore ears, and they reeked of alcohol. The man on Carlotta's right smelt even worse than Jack, and that was saying something. She turned back to Jack on her left, who had somehow gained a mug in the past several seconds, and was already drinking deeply from it. She scoffed. "Would ye care for some, darlin'?" he questioned, holding out his drink to her. She raised her eyebrows. "Didn't think so." Smirking, he put the mug to his lips again, and lifted his head back to chug its contents. She gaped, watching him warily. He slammed the empty mug back onto the splintering wood of the counter, and grinned at her before quickly calling for another.

"How can you drink so much?" she inquired with a disgusted sigh. "It does terrible things to your state of mind, and I've even heard of a man who drank himself to death."

Jack's barking laugh rank in her ears. "Ha! I'm unaffected by it, darlin', ye must understand that. An' trust me—rum ain't the cause o' death, jus' the only way to make dyin' more bearable. It's the greatest cure for any malady, too, I've found. So don't you be tellin' me not to drink, missy, alright? Else I mightn't be so inclined t' show ye around or buy ye a dress." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're certain you wouldn't like a taste? Just a sip, love. Ye'll feel a great deal better, I promise you."

She stared at the mug he had thrust under her nose. She whiffed its strong scent, and coughed delicately. "It ruins people," she said.

"Some," he agreed. "Those who are stupid enough to let it ruin 'em, anyway."

She glanced up at him. "But not you, hmm?"

"Aye. Not me. I 's completely unaffected by rum, darlin'. It ain't never done me harm, nor shall it ever. It's me dearest an' truest friend."

"And it doesn't bother you that you've come to need it to sustain yourself?"

"Why should it? 'S good. Makes me feel good. Makes the world more better in general. I like it."

Carlotta groaned, rolled her eyes, and pushed the rum out of her face. She shook her head. "Why am I here?" she wondered aloud. "I'm free, now. I don't have to put up with you like this anymore."

"Free t' do what, dearie?" he slurred, swaying as he finished off his second mug. "Ye got no money. No help. Nothin'. All ye've got is me, love, an' I'm willin' t' help. That's why ye're still here."

As though to fuel Carlotta's desire to slip away from him, a young woman in a ratty dress flung herself into Jack's arms. "'Ey, sir," the wench said in a loud, drunken slur. "D' I know ye?"

Jack glared down at her breasts, which were spilling almost entirely out of her swooping neckline. "Not that I recall, pet."

She threw back her head and let out a screeching laugh. One of her hands slumped onto Jack's chest, and trailed down his stomach teasingly. Carlotta's insides burned with fury, but she did nothing as the wench suddenly stood on her tiptoes, leaned against Jack, and took his bottom lip between her teeth. "Maybe not," she laughed, "but ye want to get t' know me, now, am I right?" Jack was smirking down at the wench, his smug, dark eyes cloudy with lust. His hand slid up her side and gently brushed the outline of her voluptuous breasts. The woman trembled in his arms, her laughter breaking with a moan as his fingers traced her nipples through her dress. Carlotta's eyes widened sorely, and a terrible, searing pain throbbed angrily in her skull. She bit her tongue, her fists clenched so tightly on the counter before her that they were shaking. She thought she might explode with sudden, unexplainable fury. Still, she continued to watch them.

Jack leaned forward, and bit the wench's earlobe. He chuckled, sneering. "You do not seduce Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he whispered to the quivering wench. "He seduces you, an' on his terms only." His eyes were locked in a painful glance with Carlotta, even as he held the wench close to him. She watched him run his tongue along the full length of the woman's ear, and fought back the urge to be sick as the whore's hands disappeared between hers and Jack's bodies. But Jack reached between them and removed her hand with a scolding grasp around her wrist—a grasp Carlotta knew well, now. Jack's eyes were still on hers as he whispered to the whore, "Tonight is not your night, pet. Go find a more eager customer." The woman pulled away suddenly, looking outraged. With an offended snort, she flipped her hair over her shoulder snobbishly, and stalked off with her nose in the air. Her face looked quite flushed, and her skin was shining with a thin layer of sweat.

Carlotta was speechless. Jack's sparkling black eyes were still glued to her, and he was grinning wickedly. She wanted to say a million things to him, to yell at him, to be furious, or to at least ask him why he was grinning, but her throat seemed to have closed up in horror. He reached suddenly towards her face. For a split second, Carlotta thought he was going to kiss her again, and her heart gave a conflicted leap—but a moment later, he had placed his fingers lightly beneath her chin, and closed her mouth. She had not noticed she'd been gaping. "What's the matter, love?" Jack asked, still grinning.

"You…" she choked. "You… are unbelievable."

"I know," he said gleefully. "Aren't I?"

"No!" she hissed, her temper flaring again. "I mean… you're just… disgusting! You didn't have to tease that poor woman. She was only looking for some company." In truth, Carlotta was fuming at that damned wench, but she refused to let that on.

Jack glared at her, his eyebrows raised skeptically. "She was looking for money, my dear. She could ha' cared less 'bout me."

"So you decided to tease her? Sir, she's still a woman, and teasing like that is just downright cruel to any wanting woman."

He grinned suggestively, his gaze shooting to her chest again. "Ah, and you would know, wouldn't ye?" he mocked, shifting closer to her so she could feel his body heat again.

She groaned irritably and moved back from him and the bar, nearly treading on the shoes of a drunken man behind her who was singing gratingly at the top of his lungs. "I've had it!" she exclaimed, shouting to be heard over the din of the tavern. Her temper was suddenly overtaking her, and breaking free at last. "I've had it with you… You and your piracy! Your lawlessness, your lechery, your brutality, your teasing… It's driving me mad, and I've had it!"

"Oh, come off it, girlie," he said with an unconvinced laugh evident in his tone. Jack advanced on her, but she took a step further back to be swept away by the enthusiastic crowd. He stepped towards her again, but she continued to retreat, squeezing herself between dancing drunkards to avoid Jack. "Give it up, you damned crazy chit!" he yelled. He plunged his arm between a waltzing couple, and managed to capture the back of her shirt in his fist before she was nearly swallowed in the engulfing throng. The couple broke apart, swearing heatedly at Jack as he tugged the shrieking Carlotta between them and trapped her in his arms. She flailed in his grasp, groaning and squealing with irritation.

"Get off of me, you scoundrel! Get off! Let me go!" she screamed, slamming her fists into Jack's chest.

Jack's expression was chilling, but he had begun to sway as he held her, rather as one would cradle a child. "What is this, love?" he asked in a low, rumbling tone that did not match his gentle, calming actions. "'Sir,' 'Captain,' 'scoundrel…' What e'er happened to 'Jack,' eh?"

She let out a whine of desperation, her body surrendering to his controlling arms. Her heart was thundering hard in fear of the power he held over her, but for reasons she could not explain nor deny, she did not want to leave him. Not now—not here, with his warm, strong arms around her. Even though he made her weak and vulnerable, she took pleasure in his closeness. And so she gave up, heaving a resigned sigh as she fell limp against him. She shut her eyes and breathed in Jack's warm essence. It calmed her, strangely. "Oh please," she muttered. "It's not as though you call me by my name, either."

"I do so," he protested. His lips twitched in a smirk.

She scoffed. "My name is not Carla," she reminded him. His chest vibrated against her as he gave a low chuckle. She shivered, and instinctively slipped her hands around his back to pull herself closer to him as he continued to sway. Were they dancing, she wondered vaguely?

"If y' say so, darlin'," he slurred dismissively. "But ye used t' call me 'Jack.' Now I'm just a 'sir' again. 'S a bit degrading."

"It's not degrading," she told him. "It's respectful. The fact is that I don't… I don't want to come to think of you as my friend," she admitted weakly, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "You were only my captain. Not my friend. You're not even civilized."

"Uncivilized, am I?" he grumbled harshly from above her. She felt his body swell and deflate tensely in a deep breath, and felt a pang of intimidation strike her. Had she insulted him? Was he angry, now? "Ye think pirates is uncivilized, do ye, pet?" One of his hands slid up her back—slowly, tantalizing her with intent. She shuddered, and her mouth opened wide in a silent gasp at the delicate caress. "That's really all y' think 'bout us, is it?" His hand found the long curls of hair that were spilling from her cap. His fingers embedded themselves deep into the tangles, and lightly twirled the soft strands at the base of her neck, making her sigh. He bent his head, and placed his mouth beside her ear so he could speak at a normal tone and still be heard over the roar of the boisterous crowd around them. "You think we pirates is nothin' but a bunch o' rotten…" He trailed his other hand delicately down her side. "…good-for-nothing…" He toyed with the hem of her linen shirt. "…vulgar…" His fingers slipped subtly beneath it. "…crude…" His fingertips were scalding against the untouched skin of her waist, and she let out an involuntary groan. "…unruly…" His lips touched her ear, and he growled. "…untamable…" He slid his palm up her bare side as far as the scrunching fabric of her doublet would allow, coming to rest somewhere on her ribs. She wanted to protest, but she was frozen in the moment by her treacherous pleasure. "…uncivilized rogues…" His tongue met her earlobe, and she whimpered uncontrollably. "…unworthy of your supposedly innocent company?" His teeth scraped her jaw line, and her already quivering knees gave out entirely. Her limbs seemed to have melted. Jack gave a low, throaty laugh at her response. "I thought not," he concluded in a deep, triumphant rumble. And at that, he pressed his mouth to Carlotta's neck, and kissed her deeply, driving her absolutely over the edge with the feel of his tongue on her flesh. Completely lost in the intense sensation, her eyes rolled back, and she let out an unexpected moan as her body began to arch in his grasp. Within a moment, she was thoroughly soaked between her thighs. Her burning skin was flushed, and she was sweating like a madwoman.

Dazed and lightheaded, Carlotta panted to regain her breath and sense of reality. "Jack," she gasped desperately, pushing his head weakly from her neck. "Stop it."

Jack sniggered in her ear. "Why?" he whined, trying to push his hand further up beneath her shirt and doublet. But she took his wrist in her hand, and recoiled slightly from him.

"Because, Jack," she sighed, "I know I have no willpower against you, yet whatever might transpire between us… I know that I'd regret it later, as I've no future with you. I'm not a pirate."

"Who's said anythin' 'bout a future?" he sneered lecherously. "How abou' a little momentary fun?"

With a sudden burst of disgust and irritation, Carlotta shoved Jack away. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Jack," she snapped. "We're too different, you and I. Intimacy is not casual for me, Jack. It's difficult. I longed for it, once, back when I had none of it, but now…" She swallowed back the memories fighting their way back to the front of her mind. "…I don't know that I trust it anymore. Rather as I don't trust you, in fact." She shook her head as the honesty spilled out of her in a rush. "My father ruined everything, y' know. He killed my mother. Did I tell you that? I saw it. I saw him holding her down, saw her screaming for mercy, saw him…" She shivered. "…I saw him cut her throat. He was so drunk. He was so drunk that he couldn't even coordinate himself properly. That's the only reason I was able to escape. He killed her, and I saw it, and he saw me watching him, so I ran, but he caught me, even though he was drunk. And he… he held me down, and he… he…" She was shaking with dry, silent sobs.

Feeling humiliated, she buried her face in her hands, her pulse racing with emotion. Jack took a cautious step forward, and she felt his arms surround her once more, embracing her sympathetically. The unusual kindness of the gesture touched her heart. She sniffled. "But I squirmed 'till I could reach something lying nearby me on the floor. I don't know what it was. I was too afraid to notice, or to care. So I smashed it over his head, and he rolled off, and I ran—to the port. To you. But even though I got away unharmed… It's like I'm ruined, now. I can't really explain it, and I don't think you'd understand or care, anyway. But I'm just too afraid to be intimate, Jack. I've never had a life that didn't involve serving my father, and now… Well, now I'm here with you, and it's just too overwhelming, Jack. It's too confusing. I can't do it."

They were silent for a minute, during which time Jack merely held her close. "I'm sorry," he said after a while. "Ye really are so innocent, darlin'. No one should e'er take advantage of ye."

She nodded, smiling contently in Jack's arms. "Thank you," she sighed genuinely.

He prized her away from him, holding her out delicately in front of him as though afraid his grip might hurt her. "Still lookin' forward to tha' dress, darlin'?"

Carlotta shrugged. "Not so much, anymore," she admitted.

He seemed taken aback. "Still want to leave the Pearl, though?"

She nodded gravely. "Yes."

"Plannin' to live as a male, then?"

"No."

Jack smirked. "Then ye'll be needin' a dress, Carla, m' dear, unless ye want so badly to stand out in such a closed-minded, God-fearing sort o' town?"

She gulped. "Not so much," she said meekly.

Smiling, he bowed slightly to her. "It'll be my pleasure, then," he told her. "Now stick close." At that, he began to move towards the door, barging his way through the swarms of drunken people. Carlotta kept close to Jack, hugging herself tightly as they pushed passed men who stank wretchedly of alcohol. Her eyes watered in disgust, but she kept her head, and a moment later they came out free and clear into the open night air.

Relieved to be free of the tavern's sickening atmosphere, Carlotta sighed and glanced up the road. "So you've been here before?" she asked Jack, who was staggering forward down the street as though he owned it.

He laughed back at her over her shoulder, walking in his usual, arrogant swagger. "Been here?" he repeated amusedly. "Darlin', I ransacked the place, and never even hurt a soul. I remember it as though it were yesterday." She had to skip slightly to keep up with him, and instinctively reached downward to lift her skirts before remembering she was wearing a sailor's attire. "You'll be pleased to know," he told her, "that it's a rare thing when I hurt a man on purpose. I'm a fair captain, sweetheart, an' I ain't ne'er been glad to kill someone. 'S a shame 'bout earlier. I swear, I'm really quite merciful, usually."

Carlotta's heart expanded, actually daring to believe him. He never did strike her as the type to kill—but then, he was a pirate, and one should never trust a pirate's word, no matter how compassionate he made himself out to be. The reasonable side of her was warring endlessly with her naivety, continuously admonishing her for staying by a man who was teasing her with false tenderness, which he would probably expend without a second thought if it might benefit him. And yet she followed dutifully behind him. She was stubbornly loyal to him—her unlikely but true savior. She was loyal to him the way she had been loyal to her parents, who had raised her and helped keep their family as prosperous as was possible. Her reason was seething at her in the back of her mind. Just look at what your loyalty brought you. Despite your service, your father dismissed you, took advantage of your loyalty, and betrayed your trust. Yes, it was true, but this could be a life for her! She could stay on the Black Pearl, and swear her loyalty to Jack. What could be safer than having a pirate crew on her side? They're pirates. They're not on anyone's side but their own. You must understand that!

But her internal battle ceased suddenly when Jack suddenly took a sharp turn, and stopped at the door to a small shop. Beyond the murky storefront windows, Carlotta could make out a frail woman hunched over a mound of fabric in her lap, poking at it fervently with a needle. The inside of the store, Carlotta could see, was lit by a single candle perched upon a table at the old woman's side. There was a small sign on the door which let them know that the shop was currently closed, but Jack pushed the door open anway, and bowed Carlotta inside before following her and letting it fall closed behind him. The little woman looked up at them from her spindly little chair. She appeared old, though not exceedingly. Her eyes were squinted in the dim light. "We're closed," she informed them irritably, raising her eyebrows suspiciously at them. She glared first at Carlotta, who was already preparing to apologize for the intrusion and exit, and then her gaze fell upon Jack. Her eyes widened. "You," she hissed. "I know you."

Jack appeared utterly bewildered. "Do ye, now?" he questioned.

"Oh, I couldn't forget you, Jack Sparrow," she grumbled, her expression extremely grave, and her voice very shaky.

He sniffed, and his lip curled. "That's good to know, really, but it's Captain Jack Sparrow, if ye don' mind, Madam."

The woman scoffed. "It's been over ten years," she said in a strained voice, "since you invaded Port Nassau, and my daughters are still talkin' about you, ye bastard." Her scowl was furious.

But in spite of the woman's vicious stare, Jack perked up at the mention of her daughters. "Is that so?" he questioned. "Well I 's glad to hear it, but I'm afraid I really don' remember who your daughters are, so…"

"They're twins," she said dully in a dry, raspy tone. She gathered up her work from her lap, and stood slowly. Her face looked even more lined than it Carlotta supposed it should have because of the deep shadows cast upon it by the flickering candlelight. "Surely you remember that, Jack Sparrow." She looked greatly exasperated.

Jack, on the other hand, looked delighted. "Oh, bleedin' Christ, I do remember 'em!" he exclaimed, throwing back his head to give a short bark of laughter. "Ah, the twins! I remember, now." His gaze became unfocused as he stared into space. "Can't remember their names for the life o' me, but they sure as hell was a nice pair for…" But the old woman cleared her throat, and Jack broke off with a smug, satisfied grin.

"You certainly made an impression on 'em," the woman snarled, shoving the bundle of fabric away from her and crossing her thin arms. "So yeah, I know who ye are, and you aren't welcome here—not you, nor any friend of yours. So get out."

"Oh, bloody hell," Jack mumbled in unconcerned annoyance, rolling his eyes and taking a step towards the woman. "We just need one thing from ye, an' then we'll be on our way."

Carlotta whined behind him. "Jack," she pleaded, "it's really alright. I don't need it. I'd get on better as a man, anyway."

The woman clutched her chest, her eyes widening slightly. "Ye ain't a man?" she gasped. "Oh, a cross-dressin' woman won't last long here."

"Precisely why we're here, Madam," Jack said. "Just get my friend here a nice dress, my good woman, and we'll be quickly out o' your graying hair."

She spat on the floor at Jack's feet. "I won't help you. You sacked our town."

Jack rolled his eyes again. "That was… what… eleven, maybe twelve years ago? Time passes, love. We've all got to move on, sometime."

"You stole my daughters' good reputation!" she cried. "They were only thirteen—" Carlotta raised her eyebrows. "—an' you plucked 'em! They were so innocent. They could have been so well in life. But you ruined them!"

"Well, they didn't exactly protest," Jack retorted brusquely.

The woman wailed. "Oh, you wretch! I shall call the authorities!"

"You shall not," Jack countered, and Carlotta watched as he pulled his pistol from his sash, and readied it with a resonating click. The woman's expression become suddenly stony, her eyes slightly crossed as she stared into the barrel pointed at her forehead. She swallowed nervously, and sweat began to form on her brow.

Carlotta felt a pang of sympathy for her, then. "Jack, don't hurt her," she groaned. "Let her be. Come on, let's just go, shall we?"

"Listen to your friend," the woman begged seriously, nodding slowly as she kept her eyes on the pistol.

Jack clicked his tongue as though to scold the woman, and shook his head condescendingly. "Come off it," he growled. "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't like to hurt people, my dear. All I wanted to do was to come in 'ere an' pay ye a good pretty penny for a nice, simple dress, but since you're so unwilling to comply, I 's afraid I've got t' do it this way, then." The woman was shaking and whimpering, and Jack's expression was weakening in its intensity. "Now," he said more softly, gesturing with his free hand to the stacks of dress material around the musty room, "is this all ye've got here?"

"We've a back room, too," she replied with a frightened squeak. "Please, let me go, Mr. Sparrow."

He smirked, and lowered his pistol. Carlotta hadn't realized how violently her heart had been pounding until now, when it finally began to resume a normal pace. "Go," he commanded the woman, nodding to the front door. "You've been a wonderfully agreeable host, an' now you're free to go." She released a deep breath that she seemed to have been holding in throughout this entire interaction. She rushed away from Jack gladly, but paused at the door, and turned.

"You ought to be trampled an' consumed by rabid animals. It's the least ye deserve," she told him. Carlotta nearly laughed, but didn't out of respect for Jack.

Jack actually did laugh. "I haven't done anything to ye, an' already ye want me dead. Now, is that fair?"

"You sacked my entire town! You soiled my daughters' livelihood!"

"I sacked this town," Jack agreed, sounding extremely edgy and impatient, "but I never even fired a shot. I took countless women in this bloody port, woman, an' your daughters was only two of 'em. It wasn't unlike any other town I've so notoriously sacked. Now get out."

At that, she fled, her thin body shivering in terror as she went. Carlotta gaped openly at Jack, her face contorted in disbelief. "You're a devil," she said disgustedly, turning her back on him to start rummaging through the stacks of feminine clothing.

"So you've said, darlin'," he said unconcernedly. "Ye should jus' be grateful I let 'er go. She knows me, bu' I let 'er go anyway."

"You stole the virginity of two thirteen-year-old girls," she pointed out to him, trying not to let on how much this fact bothered her.

He scoffed. "They weren't the first—or the last—I've stolen. Besides, thirteen ain't so young, anyway. They was all grown up, by then. Most girls is married at that age, as it is. I was surprised they weren't."

Carlotta felt her cheeks burn. "You corrupted them too early," she spat. "By tainting them, you ruined their chances of marrying."

Jack laughed at her back. "Who says they never got married after that? Did the old bat say such a thing? No."

"They should have been getting married," Carlotta went on, ignoring him, "not fraternizing with pirates. How could you have let it happen?" Her tone was bitter. She had never married, and now, she probably never would.

"Oh, shut it. The chits wasn't so bloody young! Thirteen-year-old girls is usually married 'n' already plucked. So these little girls weren't married… who cares?"

"I care, Jack. It was selfish."

"They asked for it!"

"Oh, I sorely doubt that."

"What? Is it so difficult for you to believe tha' girls yer age could actually give in to my stunning good looks and irresistibly seductive charms? It happens, y'know. It happens quite often, 's a matter of fact."

Choosing to ignore his vanity, she sighed. "Girls my age? I'm far passed the age of thirteen, thank you, Jack."

Jack's eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows rose high on his forehead, nearly vanishing beneath his bandana. "How old are ye, then?"

She blushed, and tightened her hold on the skirt of a soft dress in front of her. "Recently seventeen," she divulged meekly, embarrassed by her increasing years. It seemed the older she got, the less likely it was that she'd ever marry—and now, with the unexpectedly dramatic turn her life had taken, she supposed it would never happen. She'd be an old maid for the rest of her life.

"Is that so?" he questioned with an amused chuckle. She heard a loud clunk, and spun around. Jack was overturning shelves and trunks, and hunting through their contents with eager hands. She rolled her eyes at Jack's thieving nature. "Tha 's about the same age Elizabeth was at when I met 'er, I believe. She was betrothed at that point. O' course, she later left 'im for the man she really loved—" He spat the words as though they put a foul taste in his mouth. "—but she was betrothed nonetheless."

Carlotta nodded, remembering a conversation they'd held some days ago. "Ah, that's right. She was the woman who sent you to your death with a kiss."

He snorted. "That'd be her," he growled sourly. "Damned wench," he muttered to himself. "I was a blithering idiot to trust 'er. I never puts me trust in no one, but… I was a right barmy fool, with 'er."

"You didn't… love her?" Carlotta asked cautiously. The last time they'd spoken of Elizabeth, she'd asked him the very same question, and he'd laughed it off. But the bitterness in his tone whenever he mentioned her still made her wonder.

Jack gave a dry laugh. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "Not a chance, love. Not a chance."

Watching Jack rustle through the old woman's things, Carlotta couldn't help but find her curiosity piqued again. She held her breath, trying not to let her annoying questions burst free again. She didn't want to upset him. Soon, he'd be sailing off without her, and she wanted him to remember her well. Several moments passed during which Jack fished out an old bottle of amber liquid from beneath a mound of patched fabric, and Carlotta suddenly found it impossible to contain herself anymore. "Oh, Jack," she sighed dreamily, throwing herself into the tableside chair that the resident of the shop had been sitting in before they'd arrived. "Haven't you ever been in love?"

"Of course, darlin'," he told her in a low rumble, his eyes suddenly fixing themselves to her face. She flushed pink as their gazes met, and he dropped into a chair at the other end of the table.

Her eyes widened, and her heart was aching. "You have?" He smiled wryly, but made no other indication to respond. "Tell me, Jack," she requested meekly, leaning towards him over the table with her fingers linked and her neck craned as though listening eagerly for the telling of a beloved fairytale. Her expression was so soft, and his so cold, that the two seemed suddenly like an extremely unlikely pair to be seated alone together. His eyebrows arched, and his darkly lined eyes narrowed calculatingly at her. But still she continued to wait, despite his patronizing stare which appeared so haunting in the dim candlelight.

He sighed, and looked down at the fingernails on his muscular digits, clasped desperately around the bottle he'd discovered. Putting it to his lips, he clasped the cork between his teeth and removed it with a squelching sound that echoed in the empty store. He spat it out to his side, and then took a long, deep swig from the bottle. She held her tongue to keep herself from chiding him for his drinking habits again. When he finally slammed it back down onto the table, it clunked hollowly; he had clearly downed the entirety of its contents in one go. He twitched with a small hiccup, and when he leaned his elbow on the tabletop between them and waggled his finger in her face, it was with slightly less reserve. Indeed, his hand seemed less in control of itself as it fell into her curls, and lightly stroked them, leaving her dazed as she continued to watch him—still waiting for his reply.

And at long last, he spoke, after another sigh. "Oh, Carla, Carla, Carla," he reprimanded gently. "Me first and only real love has always been, and will always be, the sea, m' dear. I fell in love with her as a lad, and I never got over 'er. She's been me wife and mistress since the day I became a privateer as a young boy, and she ain't ne'er changed."

"You were a privateer?" she piped, unable to control herself. She put her fingers to her lips in embarrassment, realizing she had interrupted him. "Apologies, sir," she said. "Do go on."

"I was," he confirmed, nodding heavily so that the many odd trinkets in his hair rattled and clinked. "But then I got smart. An' I was too good for 'em, as well. I wouldn't do their dirty work no more." He looked suddenly bitter, and his fingers tightened in her hair, making her flinch slightly. "So I tried to get out of it. I did what I always do—I tried to negotiate and run. But neither worked. An' that's when…" He let out a low, rumbling snarl, rather like that from an enraged hound. Finally removing his hand from her hair, he shook back his sleeve, and clutched his wrist. Carlotta stared down at the distinct P-shaped burn on his arm, there. It made her sick. She imagined how it happened—imagined nameless, faceless navy men pinning Jack down, or holding him still while he was shackled. She imagined another of higher rank approach, imagined an expression of deepest loathing cross her imaginary Jack's features, and then of pure agony as the red-hot tool was pressed to his quivering forearm. It frightened her, and made her ache for him. In a moment of deep sympathy, she placed her hands on his arm. Her fingertips collided with the P permanently etched there, and she stroked the mark gingerly. A strange shiver passed over Jack's face, and his expression was suddenly much darker than it had been. "It's their own fault I became this," he garbled. "An' I'm certainly glad for it. But," he added more loudly, addressing her again, "that's a story not for today."

Carlotta smiled warmly. "You were saying how you were in love," she reminded him, as he looked suddenly bewildered at his very existence.

He gave a deep, hearty chuckle. "That's right!" he exclaimed. "Right! I was in love with the sea. An' she was jus' perfect, love, I'm tellin' ye. She was perfect for a good long span o' time, 'till o' course that blasted day when me ship sank to the depths. I was in a dark place at that point, love. A dark, unhealthy sort o' place. The sort o' place where men come face to face with the horror of their own lives, y' know? That's where I was at that time. It wasn't good, Carla. It wasn't good. I made a deal with the devil, so to speak, I was jus' so desperate. Would ha' done anythin' to feel powerful again. An' the Pearl was raised! An' things were good again, for a little while, 'till Barbossa stole me ship and I was forced to steal me ol' friend's boat. She wasn't too happy, I assure ye. O' course, that boat was failure, and I wound up stranded in Port Royal. An' this was the event that brought a most distressing creature into me life, jus' to drive me mad, an' test all me limits an' morals." He heaved a pathetically dramatic sigh. "I almost loved her, y'know. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. But I almost did. I actually trusted her. Damn my foolishness. I actually trusted the bleedin' wench—'till she prodded at me weaknesses to seduce me, an' finally shackled me to a doomed ship, thereby sentencing me to my demise. An' there I died, with her betrayal haunting my thoughts in me very last moments of a saner life." He snorted, and started to pick his cuticles. "O' course, e'er since then, I've held nothin' but dislike for the lass—'s well as for 'er good-for-nothin' husband… stupid an' noble as he is. Ever since then, I've also been nothing short of mad." He gave a short, derisive cackle, his eyes slightly crossed.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered, wanting to console his melodramatic drunken rant, but not knowing what to say. It had come so suddenly, out of the blue, and she had no idea how to react.

"Damn that Elizabeth. I never wanted to be so vexed by a woman. A simple woman—no, a magnificent woman. Royalty, she was. She is. She isn't dead or anythin' like that, we've simply… parted ways. She's the Pirate King, y'know. Courtesy of yours truly. She's also married… to the captain o' the Flying Dutchman."

Carlotta nodded gently, and glanced awkwardly away from Jack's face. She stared instead at the place where her fingertips met the burn on his wrist. The touch was causing her insides to churn. "So you did love Elizabeth," she sighed.

"No!" he exclaimed wildly, tugging his arm from beneath her hands. In their absence, her fingers trembled slightly before collapsing disappointedly onto the tabletop. "Haven't you been listening to me, lass? I did not love her. I could never. She loved her bloody Mr. Turner far too much, anyway. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. I've never been so damn turned around by a mere woman."

She sniffed emotionally and shrugged. "Well, apparently, she wasn't just a mere woman. She clearly meant something to you, and that's saying something."

"I… did not… love her!" His expression suddenly contorted with defensive fury. "Do you understand me?" He looked so fearsome, she could not contradict him. She went rigid in her seat, her eyes wide with apprehension under his terrible gaze.

She nodded. "Yes," she gasped. "Of course. I'm sorry, sir."

Jack's eyes narrowed at her, and he leaned away from her in his chair. He took up the bottle from the table, and examined it contemplatively. Then, without warning, he stood and threw the bottle angrily against a wall, where it shattered echoingly. Carlotta flinched, and gave a small whimper. "Aren't ye glad to be gettin' away from me, lass?" he grumbled. She looked up at him. He was fuming. She didn't know what to say. "I should go," he said gruffly, looking down at his front as though he didn't know what to do with himself. "Leave ye to your new life."

Carlotta glanced back at the numerous dresses. She still hadn't chosen one. She stared at the fabrics that seemed a reminder of the life she once had—with dresses and parents and a simple life. But could she really go back to that, after what such a life had done to her? It had gotten her nowhere, and eventually destroyed all she ever did have: her dignity. She swallowed, and tore her eyes from the dresses. Jack was already moving towards the door. "Wait," she said, her voice cracking. He paused, and she stood. She stared at his back. She cared about him—there was no denying it anymore. She was intrigued by the freedom of his life, and she could not deny how much she craved to be a part of it. When he ached, she sympathized, and when he smiled, she felt glad. It could not be helped. He was a likeable character, and she could not resist the friendship she felt forming unexpectedly between them. She did not know if he felt it, too, but she certainly felt it, and did not want that to end. She'd never had friends before, and she liked the feeling too much to possibly give it up now.

He turned back around, swiveling slowly on his heel with a manic grin plastered over his shadowy face. His black eyes danced eerily in the candle's glimmer. "Changin' yer indecisive mind, darlin'?" he slurred, taking a precarious step towards her. "Knew you would. A girl such as you, what with so much… curiosity… couldn't possibly resist my devilish charms."

She smiled, not knowing what else to say, and he emitted a low, breathy laugh before turning back to exit the little shop. Carlotta followed eagerly at his heels, feeling extremely glad to be leaving the store without a dress in her possession. She loved her femininity—but she was pleased to not be confined by it.

The door shut behind her with a muffled thump, and as she took another several steps, she found herself suddenly colliding with something hard. She let out a sound of confusion, and looked up to discover that Jack had stopped in his tracks. "What—?" she began, but fell silent a moment later.

Standing all around them was a cluster of soldiers who all had their muskets aimed directly at Jack's heart. Carlotta froze, her own heart leaping fearfully into her throat. She nearly screamed, but terror had her too stunned to make a sound. Jack slumped in front of her, his fingers twiddling in awkward apprehension. The soldiers were stiff, all holding their weapons at the ready.

"We've orders to shoot if you try an' escape, Jack Sparrow," one of them shouted. "Just move and you're dead."

Jack sighed. "Oh bugger," he mumbled. "Not again."

A/N: Hmmm... as I read this again, I realize that my Jack is really a lot more brutal than the movie-Jack. Why is that? I donno. I think the fact remains that I have problems writing comedy, and Jack is SUCH a comical character, so I immediately end up accidentally making him less amusing than he really should be. I'm so sorry about that. All I can write is melodrama. It's a shame, but it's true. Grrr. Oh well. The next chapter will be better (I hope). Thanks for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated!!