Pirates of the Caribbean: The Pirate's Pearl

By Romania Black

Hey everyone!

Thanks for all the reviews! I've been out of town the last several weeks, and the wireless hot spots I've tried to find...either don't work or no one knows how to access them! Joy! haha, anyway, I'm terribly sorry for the wait, but here's two new chapters up and going! I hope to have more out soon!

Sincerely,

Romania Black

Chapter Eleven

In one of the tables towards the corner of the room, sat a pirate with long black dreadlocks that were braided with several metal crosses. His head was wrapped in a blue and yellowed bandana, with a large hat sitting atop it and a bright dazzling red coat draped over him. The man was resting his boots on another chair beside him when Annabelle entered the tavern through the back door. His wrinkled face formed a small smile as she walked towards him, her eyes flashing with eagerness. As she approached the pirate, she slowly composed herself and stood in front of the table, resting her hands on her hips.

"You," She said with a slightly fake frown, "have a lot of nerve."

"And why is that?" The pirate asked, his brow furrowing, though he was still grinning.

"You promised me you'd come and see me every month or two," She said, crossing her arms, "It's been almost six months now, Teague." She said, her face forming a faint smirk.

Teague scratched his long black beard, "That be whining I hear?" He said slowly, and Annabelle dropped her guard.

"No, sir," She said. She couldn' t deny Teague the respect he deserved. She had to admit, the captain knew how to get to her. "One ale or two?" She said, turning towards the bar.

"Make it one for now," Teague said slowly, nodding his head. Annabelle smiled and reached behind the bar for a mug. She noticed Teague staring at the tavern walls and then back to Annabelle, "They treat you good here?" He asked, taking the ale.

Annabelle sighed, scratching the back of her head. She supposed for Buela's sake, though she hated to do it, she'd better not be entirely truthful, "I can't complain," She lied through her teeth. Teague took a look at her ensemble and looked more than unconvinced.

"Could dress ye better," He rumbled, "Looks like you haven't had a different dress in years."

Not far from the truth, Annabelle thought, "It gets a lot wear around here," she slowly took a seat in front of him, "What brings you here?" She asked, changing the subject.

Teague eyed her, then returned to his mug, "Business," He glanced at her face, "As usual."

The one thing Annabelle hated was how much Teague didn't like to converse, unless necessary. It always made for awkward moments of silence, and that she despised. "I see," She rested her head on one of her hands, "Any word on Jack as of recently?" She asked, her eyes scanning Teague's dark orbs.

"You always ask that," Teague said with his deep voice, one that Annabelle found alluring, "No. I haven't heard of him since I came here last." Seeing the disappointment in her face, he added, "Heard he was making rounds in the Caspian Sea, last I heard."

"Still looking for the Pearl no doubt," Annabelle laughed. Eight years and Jack still didn't have his ship back. She almost felt sorry for the captain. She would feel sorrier for him, had he kept his word to come and visit her often. She'd only seen him a handful of times, each one shorter than the last.

"Barbossa's kept it hidden," Teague said nonchalantly, "He's in love with that ship, same as Jack. Not likely to give it up on a whim either."

Annabelle tilted her head, "You could help Jack get it back, you know." She said matter-of-factly.

Teague gave her a hard stare, "Why would I do that?"

Annabelle swallowed softly. She had never asked if Jack was indeed Teague's son, though she knew it to be true, "I don't know," She answered quickly. To her surprise, Teague smiled lightly,

"He's not a boy, Annie," He replied, calling her the name that only Teague called her. She considered it some sort of honor to be called 'Annie'.

"Fair point," Annabelle said, getting out of her seat and gently grasping the handle of the mug to refill it.

"Two this time," Teague said, looking down at the table. Annabelle nodded, as Buela and Felicity came through the back door. Buela quickly sidestepped towards the other end of the tavern and through the double doors leading to the back room. It was very apparent she did not want to make as much talk with Teague as possible. Felicity gave Annabelle a quick smile before she disappeared into the back room with the tavern owner. Annabelle inwardly grinned, it was shaping out to be a good day indeed.

"Here you are," She layed the two mugs, one slightly overflowing with brew, on the table next to Teague, and the captain took one immediately and swallowed a large gulp of ale. Annabelle watched him, wondering in her head the origins of all his trinkets and charms that littered his black and slightly speckled gray beard. Teague noticed her stare and wiped his mouth with his lacy sleeve.

"How old are ye?" He asked after a moment's silence. Annabelle gave him a curious look,

"Eighteen," She said slowly, unsure why he'd asked, "Why?"

Teague nodded, "No particular reason," though she had a hunch that there was, "Curious."

Annabelle leaned back in her chair, wondering why he was here for the first time, "Teague," She started. For a moment, she had the strangest urge to tell him of the story she'd told Felicity this morning, of the time she went to the mystic. She couldn't explain it, but she wanted to tell him it; she had kept it from him for eight years. For reasons she didn't really understand, she hadn't told Teague about Jack taking her away for a day. She'd told him that she had met Jack, and that seemed to end that story. She supposed at the time, she didn't want Miss Elizabeth, no matter how much she loathed the woman, to get into trouble.

"What?" The Captain grunted, looking up at her from his mug.

Annabelle realized that she had never finished the sentence, "N-nothing," She said quickly, looking away. She couldn't gather up the courage to say it. Not now.

Teague stared at her neck, "What's that?"

"Excuse me?" Annabelle gave him a curious glance, looking down at her necklace.

"That," He leaned over and pointed a grisly finger at a small gash on the base of her collarbone. Annabelle touched it tenderly and smiled slightly.

"Oh, that," She grinned, looking at the table, "Just a scratch." She laughed a little, "I lost the match day before yesterday with Jameson."

"Match with Jameson?" Teague raised a large bushy eyebrow. Annabelle realized that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Fencing," She replied, trying to explain, "Jam--William Jameson Turner is teaching me how to duel properly with swords."

Teague stared at her and then nodded his head slowly, "You have a sword?"

"Yes," She replied, eyeing Teague curiously, "Jameson made it for me," She added, to varify that she hadn't stole it. She hated thieves, and Buela was known for accusing her of stealing things, so it was instinct for her to explain she wasn't a thief to anyone she met.

"I see," Teague suddenly had a very Jack-like expression on his face. It was the kind Jack made when he was deep in thought about something. "Do you have it here with you?" He asked finally, slowly.

Annabelle looked around, making sure Buela wasn't listening, "Yes. It's up in the loft." She hid it from Buela whenever she wasn't training, afraid the tavern owner would take it away.

The captain set the empty mug in his hands aside and moved to the other one beside it, taking a swig. "Hmmm," He mumbled, gulping the ale.

"Why did you come here, Teague?" Annabelle asked, her face forming a small frown.

Teague glanced at her, his face unreadable, "To see you." He mumbled, gulping the ale slowly.

"Is that your 'business' here?" Annabelle stared, her face growing sterner.

"My business," Teague said, his grisly wrinkles moving with the motion of her mouth. "Has not changed since I came to visit you that first time seven years ago."

Annabelle crossed her arms as she leaned in towards the table, "And what," She asked, her eyes narrowing, "Business is that?"

Before Teague could answer though, the door to the back room opened and Buela walked out, Felicity running past her and back behind the bar. "Girl," She said in a hoarse throaty voice, eyeing Annabelle, "The regulars be showin' up here soon." She eyed Teague thoroughly as she made her way towards Felicity, who was getting out several mugs and starting to fill them. Annabelle turned to Teague, not wanting him to go. The captain smiled as he finished the second mug.

"Just as well," Teague said, wiping his mouth, "Wouldn't want to keep you from your job." He motioned to Buela, who was busy getting another barrel of ale out.

Annabelle's face was full of stern resentment, "You can't just answer my questions, can you?" She whispered angrily, "You always leave before you do."

The captain scanned her face and then started to get out of his seat, his heavy boots clopping against the wood floor loudly, "Wait with your sword tonight," He said quietly, looking into her green eyes, as if to bore the moment into her mind. "You'll know what you need to tonight." He said with a tone of finality as he stood up. He rolled his arms, straightening the red coat that was drawn across his frame. He drew out the lacy white sleeves of his coat and eyed Buela, who's face paled as she turned away. Teague smiled with satisfaction as he turned to walk out the doors of the tavern and out into the streets.

Annabelle watched him go, unsure what to make of his words. It wasn't until Felicity tapped her and told her to get the rest of the mugs ready that Annabelle left the exit of the tavern and got back to work.